


Hungry for you.

by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey)



Series: Until your lips taste like mine. [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Dates, Background Sunaosa, Canon Universe, Character Study, Comedy, Communication, Dating, Falling In Love, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Feels, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Olympics, Resolved Sexual Tension, SakuAtsu being assholes, Sexual Tension, Switch sex scene, Switching, Trust Kink, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakillDatMonkey/pseuds/DeadDrabble
Summary: One date.It was supposed to be one perfect date to sort their mess out.One date because so far, they got it all backward, falling into bed before even realizing they've fallen for each other.But sometimes, ruined plans and an awkward rendez-vous are all it takes to bring together people who are excruciatingly pining for one another.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Until your lips taste like mine. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995118
Comments: 29
Kudos: 362
Collections: Haikyuu!! Fics, ♧SakuAtsu Fics♧





	Hungry for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [There's fire in my voice.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549187) and the 3rd and final part to the UYLTLM series. 
> 
> cw for this part: there are multiples references to STD/STIs since Atsumu has to pick up his test results. Spoiler to ease anyone who could be uncomfortable with the subject: they're negative. It's mentioned a lot in the first half, they get nervous over it and they hang out in a hospital for some time. No angst, but at least you know what you're in for ♥

“Let me get this right, ‘Tsumu. He literally kissed ya. On the mouth. Put his tongue down your throat—”

“I swear if ya don’t shut the hell up I’m—”

“No! _You_ shaddup! You’ve been rantin’ ‘bout this for an hour, without listenin’ and you’re so dense it’s actually killing the few brain cells I had left after this math test! So, _you_ listen and get your shit together! He’s into ya, you’re into ‘im, and ya better be safe when you two get gross ‘cause otherwise I’m _ending your life._ Now put somethin’ nice and go to your date, ‘cause _yes,_ it’s a fuckin’ date, you MORON.”

They were eighteen back then. Eighteen when Atsumu had his first serious boyfriend, eighteen when Osamu had _not_ for the first time been obligated to beat some sense into his self-doubting twin.

“Atsumu? Why are you… he’s fine. Osamu's still sleeping, why do you—”

“Sunarin?”

Atsumu blurts out the name before sucking in his breath. Shit! He’s an idiot.

Atsumu has always been pretty confident about his skills, because he’s confident about the amount of work he puts into it and his dedication. He can actually be pretty full of himself, he knows that, and he knows he has reasons to be proud but paradoxically… Atsumu can self-doubt and second-guess himself hard. 

Osamu has always been pretty good at punching him in the guts to get him out of that furious loop. He can actually be pretty useful, give some good advice because he’s also a good listener. It’s natural to call his twin brother on a saturday morning before seven, just to panic over the phone while he is styling his hair. Osamu would check the restaurant stocks, roll his eyes, insult him with each—

“Yeah? Are you calling to check on him? The fever dropped entirely last night, he’s fine,” Suna’s voice pierces Atsumu’s train of thoughts.

Osamu isn’t in the restaurant’s kitchen. He was sick, he’s home, sleeping in and Suna is taking care of him. He is and precisely for that reason, Atsumu and Sakusa ended up in the position that’s making him call Osamu now… fuck! He _forgot_ because he’s too much in his head.

Has been since he woke up an hour ago, really, because he couldn’t fry his brain over it the night before, passing out as soon as he stumbled out of the shower. Atsumu woke up way before his alarm too, after a too long night of sleep and, since then, it’s been a nightmare up there.

“Ya better have slept on the fuckin’ couch!” Atsumu snarls to the phone resting on the edge of his sink to focus on something else than the diffuse heat spreading along his nape and nose.

“Good morning to you too, fucker,” his long time friend drawls. “So… why the emergency call?”

Atsumu’s hand stills in his hair, his bangs half parted in their usual waves, and he squints at the phone. Osamu knows him better, being his twin and everything, but Suna has known him for over ten years, he’s close to what Atsumu could call his best friend… Of course, he’d know.

“What d’ya mean! It’s standard Miya twins procedure,” Atsumu groans, leaning toward the mirror to check a strand that won’t take the curvy shape he wants it to.

“Bullshit.”

“Why? You’ve been callin’ him on saturday mornings to keep him company while he sets the kitchen up?” Atsumu snorts.

“In fact, I do just that,” Suna deadpans, and Atsumu can hear some porcelain cling in the back. 

Maybe Suna is brewing some coffee to share with his brother when he wakes up. Maybe Suna really is in love with his twin.

“Oh,” he drops lamely, hand dropping at the edge of the sink when the strand won’t cooperate. “Gross.”

“Tell yourself that. It’s okay to admit you’re jealous because you can’t find yourself a caring boyfriend, Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s spray mousse falls to the ground when he reaches for his phone in a frenzy.

“Don’t know whatcha talking about!” he rushes out, slapping the phone to his face.

He can _hear_ Suna smirk on the other hand, knows he made a mistake.

“Of course. How is that outside hitter doing?” 

Atsumu wants to face-palm, or bash his head in the mirror even. Suna _knows_ Sakusa. They’ve talked before, during games, at volleyball gatherings. He knows his name just fine. The fact he’s dismissing it is just a way to force Atsumu to take the bait. 

“Osamu ran his mouth,” he groans through gritted teeth.

“Not that much, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, I might be of help,” Suna offers seriously, despite the light tone.

Atsumu keeps quiet for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons, remembering every time Suna teamed up with his other half to roast him alive and the many times he helped Osamu sort Atsumu’s mess out.

“There’s not much to say anyway,” he ends up saying, careful.

“I know there’s been some friction between the two of you over the last weeks. He’s the one who was driving you to the hospital yesterday, right?”

“Oh come on! Fuck off, how do you guys do that?” Atsumu groans miserably as he picks his styling foam from the floor.

“You haven’t bragged about a good lay in over a million years and Osamu told me Sakusa punched you over a somber lollipop story… I just connected some dots. Sounds like pent up—”

“‘Samu’s full of shit, Omi didn’t punch me.”

_He shoved me into a wall. He fucked my throat. He made me come in his car’s backseat. He kissed me on the lips after I accidentally asked him on a date while I was still on cloud nine._

“There’s something between you two, though. Right?”

“Shit,” Atsumu breathes out, turning away so he can lean back against the sink, hand pressed against his forehead. “D’ya have ten minutes? I’ll have to head out for a morning jog soon, but…”

He can hear some more shuffling sounds and a soft click on Suna’s end.

“Come on, big boy. Tell your big bro Rintarou what’s the—”

“You’re the baby, Sunarin. Literally you’re younger than ‘Samu and I.”

“Never noticed. I’m not the one who’d get grounded every two weeks because I’d wreak havoc in the lockers when we were teens,” Suna mocks quietly.

“You were the enabler, you ass! Anyway, can you listen or do I have to go and vent on my secret twitter account like ya do?”

“It’s healthy and it prevents me from making a fool of myself in front of the whole planet. I do have the time to listen, but I really think you should consider that option.”

“I have ‘Samu for that shit,” Atsumu barks without spite. 

Somehow, Suna got him out of his head with the light banter, and he’s at least grateful for that. Suna is a _good_ friend, all things considered—

“Osamu needs some rest and _you_ need to tell me why you haven’t fucked your teammate yet.”

Suna is the _worst_ friend on the planet.

“I hate you so goddamn much it physically pains me,” Atsumu groans, exiting the bathroom to rummage through his closet. 

“No, I really think that’s on your sexual misery. But I’ll stop teasing. Out with it.”

Atsumu is wounded in his pride and easily riled up.

“Who said we haven’t fucked yet, _anyway._ ”

“Oh.”

Suna’s quiet but pointed reaction suddenly makes him feel worse. His face heats up.

“We haven’t! Oh my god! Why is it such a mess?” he whines, looking at the display of sweatpants in front of him without seeing them.

“Hum… seems like it’s a little more complicated than fucking your buddy.”

 _That_ doesn’t help Atsumu much.

“What is it you were gonna tell Osamu when you called?”

 _That,_ on the other hand…

Maybe Suna isn’t the worst friend on the planet. Maybe he’s not Atsumu’s best friend for nothing, because he knows him that well. 

“He might have tried to kiss me yesterday,” Atsumu blurts out, dropping to a low crouch.

“That’s… not what I expected. Is it a bad thing? Apart from the whole thing where you’re on the same team and it might get awkward if you don’t return it, which you do?” Suna asks very casually.

“You don’t get it. I asked Sakusa Kiyoomi on a date,” Atsumu immediately counters, voice raising. 

“Atsumu, that’s—”

“We had sex in his car!” 

Atsumu isn’t sure he can stop now. He’s hunched over himself on the ground, memories flashing behind his closed eyelids as he presses the phone to his face _hard._

“Shit! Lots to unpack here—”

“We had sex twice!” 

This one comes out so loud he can’t help but open his eyes again and suffers minor whiplash as he looks wildly toward the entrance of his room. Suna is quiet, moving around but not speaking up and Atsumu feels like a terrible mess. Damn, why did he sleep so much? Now his brain is hyper awake and aware and his mind is _reeling._

“Say somethin’ Sunarin.”

“We were waitin’ for ya to be done,” a sleepy voice comes from afar.

Atsumu’s blood runs cold. 

“I’m so done with you two!” he whines low in his throat, recognizing his twin’s voice unmistakably. “How long…”

“Oh! I put you on speaker two minutes ago when he woke up,” Suna answers.” Let’s not digress though. Let us hammer the final nail in the coffin…”

“I don’t think it’s necessary, thanks—”

“Didn’t you get it all backward?!” both his twin and Suna ask as one man.

That’s it. He wants to disappear. Atsumu wants out. Trust Suna to dig his grave and Osamu to throw his body down there.

“ _Why are you like this,_ for god’s sake!” he yells pathetically. “That’s the fuckin’ problem! One of them! Help me, instead of doing that!”

“Ya hear that? He’s that close to beg, isn’t he?” Osamu says from afar.

“I’ll throw my phone away,” Atsumu threatens them childishly.

“And then what? You can’t text your boyfriend without a phon—”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Atsumu realizes he sounds desperate, and not just to have his tormentors shutting up. The statement in itself isn’t pleasant…

Oh no. He isn’t there yet, is he?

“Don’t ruin the date and he will be?” Suna says, still as casually.

“Who are ya talkin’ to Rin… It’s Atsumu. You’ll need to give him actual advice.”

“Fuck the both of you! I need to go, thanks for nothing,” Atsumu groans, aware he needs to get ready.

“Rin’s right, though. Damn, how did ya even have—well, doesn’t matter. He willingly had sex with ya, then it’s not going to be that difficult. Is it? For real ‘Tsumu.”

It’s obvious his twin’s not fully awake yet, or else Atsumu knows he’d be a lot more sharp about it. Or maybe Osamu is taking pity on him if he heard his boyfriend roasting him for the last couple of minutes. He must sound that pathetic.

“You’re getting in that stupid head of yours again, right?”

“What if—”

“He wants casual sex? Guy’s a _little_ into you, he’s been actin’ all weird for weeks, come on!” Osamu sounds closer to the device now, speaking directly into the phone.

“Yeah but… I initiated it,” Atsumu mops.

“Thank god someone did, holy hell! I’ll die if I have to hear ya go on about it for more than a month. He’s always after you, don’t be dense!”

“Atsumu. It takes two persons to have sex,” Suna speaks in turn.

“At _least_ ,” Osamu objects.

“Dude,” Suna answers, clearly not for Atsumu.

“Just sayin’,” Atsumu hears his twin say.

“I thought you said threesome were stupid, Osamu.”

“Ew, fucking ew! Stop being gross!” Atsumu snaps, dropping his phone into his closet to grab a pair of compression tights and lose shorts. 

“Anyway, it’s not like Sakusa wasn’t there when you were gross yourself, and he agreed to go on a date, right? It _does_ take two persons to date, unless Osamu says otherwise.”

“I’ll gut ya if you’re implying we should date more than one person, Rin.”

Atsumu gets it, they’re in love. And they’re dating and it seems so easy for them! They’re the epitome of highschool sweethearts, it’s so _unfair_ Atsumu has to go through it when he doesn’t even know where his own sexual or romantic life stands.

That’s why it’s such a mess. 

Suna is right, all this mess looks like it started over a somber lollipop story but it’s a lot deeper than that. Else, Atsumu wouldn’t have gone as far as dropping on his knees in a storage room. He wouldn’t have taken a STD test, the first chance he got… He wouldn’t have asked Sakusa Kiyoomi what were his _thoughts on having breakfast with him?_ Can he get any more _lame_ than that?

His brother and his brother's boyfriend's bickering eventually puts a stop to Atsumu’s swirling thoughts.

“As if I’d _ever_ imply that. I’ll gut anyone who tries to date you under my watch.”

“Hot.”

Well… that sounds a lot like the times Atsumu got to third-wheel back in high school and they’d hold hands and obnoxiously blow kisses in each other’s direction. 

“Right. I’ll just go and ruin my life, then. See ya dickheads. Rest properly before you go back to work, ‘Samu,” he groans.

“Not dropping by today? You made it pretty clear yesterday—”

“He’s going on a date, Rin. You know… ruinin’ his life and everythin’ since it’s so obvious Sakusa isn’t into him at all.”

“Ooooh. Sounds like you connected the dots, ‘Samu,” Suna purrs.

“It’s ‘cause I’m hecking smart.”

“Well, I’ll—”

_Click._

Atsumu disconnects the call and _does_ throw his phone on the bed, letting it bounce there while he presses both his hands into his face, unable to hold back an excruciating sigh of frustration. 

He was so exhausted and floating yesterday after getting off under Sakusa… Of course he asked him on a date! Of course he did. Atsumu has been wanting to do more than just having quick handjobs and blowjobs in dark corners with the wing spiker. Not that he thought about it hard enough to confidently use _labels_ but _“it does take two persons to date”_ Suna said and Atsumu can’t help but feel like it’s too hot all of a sudden. 

_Works for me too._

It’s not like Sakusa sounded overly excited when he answered Atsumu but…

Atsumu presses his fingertips to the corner of his mouth where the fantom feeling of a shy kiss lingers. 

That’s not something someone who just wants a quick blowjob in a dark corner would do, is it? Damn Osamu for thirsting over his boyfriend instead of kicking his twin’s insecurities away. 

_I’d have died if I had heard you go on about it for more than a month. He’s always after you, don’t be dense._

People in a relationship with their fated soulmates have it way too easy, Atsumu thinks as his heart starts pounding again and he prepares to leave his room for good.

Kiyoomi regrets having had breakfast. He doesn’t like to eat in the morning, never did but always forced himself to do it anyway. You can’t be a proper athlete if your morning routine isn’t perfectly in order and you don’t get the right amount of fuel in your body before heading out for the day.

Right now, he’s regretting the greek yoghurt and seeds mix a lot and not because his high stepping/hip opener warm-up sequence is upsetting his stomach.

He had breakfast this morning, and the moment Kiyoomi set himself to prepare said meal, his mind went reeling.

Anyone would say there’s no reason to, that Atsumu made it very clear he’s into him, he asked him out very awkwardly, after they had sex, not just once. So it wasn’t even a mistake, it’s…

“Omi-san! Untied shoelace!” Hinata warns him as he strides past him, puffing out mist in the cold morning air.

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, coming to a jarring halt. That’s not like him to be careless like this. Many things aren’t like him! In fact, he has no idea what he’s been doing over the last weeks but he needs to sort that mess really fast because as soon as Atsumu is physically out of the picture, Kiyoomi has no way to justify this chaos and it freaks him out.

He bends over to tie his laces properly.

There’s something that comes with flexibility and it’s not having to crouch to reach your feet. Less trouble, more legs. 

Someone clears their throat awkwardly just as a pair of stark white sneakers enters Kiyoomi’s field of vision.

“Mornin’ y’all!” 

Kiyoomi finishes tying his shoelaces with a sharp snap of the wrist, straightening immediately to find Atsumu standing in front of him, nose tinted pink from the cold, eyes sparkling and alive. He’s no longer the walking corpse he was yesterday. He’s just as gorgeous, though. Maybe more now that he is giving his teammate a blindingly bright smile.

Kiyoomi’s heart picks up to an unsteady pace. His brain treacherously conjures up the image of Atsumu lying underneath him, fucked out in the backseat of his car, lips swollen and glistening… No! Shit.

Kiyoomi inhales a long gulp of icy cold air. 

“Glad to see you well rested, Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto comments, passing by and patting the man on the back with nothing short of the visible intent to dislocate his shoulder.

“Someone was pretty adamant about me gettin’ some sleep or they’d have to hunt me down and end me or something equally scary,” Atsumu explains with a shrug that seems to be meant to check if said shoulder is still functional.

He won’t look away from Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi can’t help but give Atsumu wide, puzzled eyes in return. What does that even _mean?_

“Having a twin sounds fun,” Inunaki comments as he plugs his earphones. 

“Yeah right? Gotta love having someone lookin’ out for ya with a good death threat,” Atsumu _insists_ with the pointed glance.

Is this a reproach? Kiyoomi’s lips open slightly, the most subtle hanging jaw he can form without giving anything away for the others who are warming up all around them.

And all Atsumu does is giving him a weird wink as if it was a clear answer to Kiyoomi's confusion. 

“It’s been some time since I saw Myaa-sam! Akaashi was so thrilled to know he’s opening a shop in Tokyo!” Bokuto says cheerfully, beaming like it isn’t eight in the morning and they’re all freezing to death and ready to go on a twenty kilometers lap. 

“If you make it back first today, I’ll treat you the next time we go to the shop, Bokuto-kun,” Barnes tells him with a serene smile.

Barnes is always, unmistakenly, the first one to come back from their Saturday jog, Bokuto’s irises still catch on fire. 

“Speaking of! Let’s go boys! We don’t have all day,” Meian says as he clasps his hands together. “Last arrived treats the others to some onigiris!”

Kiyoomi tenses all over, eyes fixed on Atsumu as he cranes his neck both ways to stretch a little. Bokuto springs into motion, passing by them at Mach speed, Hinata laughing like a kid on his tail. Atsumu’s attention trails after them, not Kiyoomi’s.

His eyes are still glued to him when Atsumu looks back with a grin.

“You ready, Omi-kun?”

“I—" 

Kiyoomi is aware he nods in answer because Atsumu steps aside, telling him to "Lead the way, then" but he can't actually believe it. 

Suddenly he wants to run fast enough to cut the 20 kilometers short, fast enough to get through practice and fast enough to sit Atsumu down because he doesn't know what to do with himself and it's unnerving. 

_He asked you out,_ Kiyoomi forces himself to remember for the _nth_ time. But his insides churn in. 

They went out together before, not as a date, it could be something else. It could mean nothing. They're just casually having sex—

_You kissed him goodnight._

"Shit," he curses as he speeds away from Atsumu, plugging his earphones in. 

Now there's something new to dread: the embarrassing moment they'll have to discuss these things. The sex, the kiss, why they're sitting opposite at a table having _breakfast_ past 2PM.

Kiyoomi never backed down from a challenge and he's not the type to do things half-assedly but the more he imagines that moment closing in, the more he wonders how he's supposed to live through it. 

There can't be a repeat of yesterday while they were going through their stretching routine half confused by their imminent boners and half embarrassed enough to die or get angry like morons as an alternative. 

They do not talk while they run, each of them going at their own pace, and it’s the perfect occasion for Kiyoomi to let any background noise fade away, to cool and empty his head. Today, there’s none of the usual quietness. The gears in his brain are working fast.

The tempo of Kiyoomi’s strides is faster than ordinary, erratic too and in no time, he can’t shake the stitching pain flaring up his flank. A rookie mistake that forces him to slow down around the fifth kilometer and look behind him.

He’s surprised to see Atsumu round the corner of the street, appearing to be on his tail despite Kiyoomi’s messy rhythm. Atsumu is clearly absorbed by his own music but the moment he catches a glimpse of Kiyoomi’s form, he’s frowning. He allows Atsumu to catch up on him, inconvenienced by the pain biting his flank.

“What happened?” Atsumu asks the moment he’s at his side, slowing down.

His attentive eyes roam Kiyoomi’s body, a grave expression on his face that makes Kiyoomis breath even shorter. It’s the opposite of what Kiyoomi needs and Atsumu sees right through him immediately.

There’s a firm grip on his wrist that pulls Kiyoomi back and a weight on his stomach as he comes to a halt, stopped by Atsumu. Would it be anyone else, Kiyoomi’s guard would be too high to let them catch him, but he lets Atsumu take a hold of him without a second thought. The only thing he minds is that, now, Atsumu ruined his course and that he created another unnecessary interaction for them to writhe through before they get to really have a conversation.

“Don’t break your pa—”

“Shaddup or the thing I’ll break is your nose. Y’know? The thing you’re supposed to use to _breathe,_ Omi-kun,” he warns him with a sly smile but there’s no denying he looks genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing serious, you don’t need to fuss over it,” Kiyoomi groans.

Atsumu’s hand moves along his forearm as he blocks his teammate’s path. There’s another set of fingers on Kiyoomi’s other arm, they both travel up to his elbows over the thin material of the long sleeves of his compression shirt, sparking a myriad of electric shocks in their wake.

“Sure don’t but if I let you run the next eight miles like this, you’re gonna hurt yourself during practice,” Atsumu says, locking his hands just above Kiyoomi’s elbows.

“I was going to take a break,” he lies, looking away.

“Right, and I’m the Queen of England! Grab my arms, Omi-kun."

"What kind of critical downfall is that for the British Crown?" Kiyoomi drawls although he can't help the light smile playing on his lips as he eventually lets his fingers curl around Atsumu's elbows. 

"How dare! I'm clearly royalty Omi-Omi," Atsumu fakes an offended pout. "Alright. Step back."

Kiyoomi obeys, taking a large step back without letting go of his partner's arms, then another one. 

"You have the manners of a pig, I wouldn't call that royalty," Kiyoomi quietly teases, looking down at the concrete between them. 

"That's so uncalled for and wrong too. 'Samu's the pig. I'll show ya later how classy I can get and you'll be so charmed you're totally gonna fall for me Omi-kun…"

It happens extremely fast, and excruciating slowly at the same time. Atsumu brags all confidently at first, applying pressure on Kiyoomi's arms so he bends forward progressively with his back straight. But as the words get out, they get quieter and more hesitant, as if he's realizing what he is saying _really_ and Atsumu's fingers dig harder in the crook of Kiyoomi's elbows. 

Kiyoomi is supposed to breathe in and out slowly as he folds himself in half, parting his legs to plant his feet in the ground. Instead his breath gets stuck in his throat, dark eyes widening. 

Just a few days ago, that would have been playful banter. Your usual flirty-as-hell cocky setter. But now… there’s no way the words are meaningless. Atsumu knows that and despite Kiyoomi’s doubts and dread, Kiyoomi feels like his teammate wouldn’t be that affected if he didn’t mean it a little.

“You need to breathe or it’s all for shit,” Atsumu squeals from above him, voice so high pitched Kiyoomi wants to retort that he’d better use his precious advice on himself. 

But he doesn’t utter a word, exhaling a long and shaking breath he’s been holding instead. Breath he’s been holding since yesterday, probably.

The stitching pain stabs him once before receding, overwhelming Kiyoomi with relief. He tries not to squirm but he can’t help it and the way Atsumu holds him through it is grounding. He doesn’t have to care about the heat spreading over his face, Kiyoomi can just focus on the tingling sensation flashing along his side as the pain gets washed away. He can focus on the warm touch where their hands touch their partner’s arms ; outstanding in the chilly air surrounding them.

His respiration slows down. 

_Fall for him, uh?_

Kiyoomi closes his eyes and exhales long and slowly, bending even more. Atsumu’s sneakers get closer as he steps in his space to accommodate him. The grip on his elbows is still tight, but also more gentle as seconds tick by. They’re both in their heads, the street is terribly quiet. So quiet Kiyoomi can hear the faint music still playing in his earphones dangling in front of him. 

“Better?” Atsumu asks after some time, still not releasing him. 

Kiyoomi nods, pushing further down, rolling his shoulders. It is. The pain faded away, his chest isn’t tight, his flank isn’t screaming anymore. It feels good. 

“Better,” he answers as he pushes himself back up, hands lingering where he’s touching his teammate. 

The heat in his face has vanished too, although Kiyoomi isn’t so sure his cheeks are pale anew when Atsumu gives him a sheepish smile. 

“Then we should go. I don’t wanna treat anyone to my brother’s onigiris, honestly. He’d never stop gloatin’.”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi asks as he picks up the long line of his earphones to place them back around his neck. 

It feels comfortable again, like the usual. Atsumu smiles, doing the same, and suddenly Kiyoomi feels a little bold. They need to see this through. They have to. He _wants_ to. 

He turns on his heel, heart speeding up a little.

“How about you treat _me_ to breakfast instead?”

“I—” Kiyoomi doesn’t turn back when he hears Atsumu’s strangled little gasp. “You vain little shit, Omi-Omi! You shouldn’t need that to fall for me!”

Kiyoomi can feel the weird little grin that twists his lips despite the nerves as he picks up the pace, leaving Atsumu behind. He needs to watch it, though. Doesn’t want to have to stop again. But in the end, it seems like he doesn’t have to fear much. Since the moment he destroyed that lollipop on the bus, Kiyoomi has been on edge, but now that he looks back on everything, no matter which direction they’ve taken since then, Atsumu seems to always be right by his side. It is still unnerving but Kiyoomi is convinced that no matter how he decides to act on his feelings, his partner might be right beside him. He just needs to be careful but…

Atsumu catches up on him and settles to his left, without even looking, just keeping up so they’re running at the same pace. _I’m not disappointed, ever…_

There’s a difference between indulging in the need to quench your thirst, in trying to tame your pent-up frustration, and reveling in someone’s company, seeking it.

It makes him wonder… what if Atsumu really wants Kiyoomi the way Kiyoomi wants him?

Some would call him bold, some would say he’s stupid. Atsumu simply doesn’t think it through when he peels the wrapper of his lollipop off. He’s nervous so no matter how much he refrained from eating that specific sort of candies lately, it was the only thing to do.

It’s past two in the afternoon and Atsumu is waiting in the chilly air behind the gymnasium after getting out of a thorough but quick shower. He’s not wearing track pants or his MSBY overcoat as he only would after practice but dark grey jeans and a black sweater with two beige stripes that he knows compliments the gold in his eyes just nicely. Osamu told him that, in a way less charming way, one time Atsumu had a meltdown over what to wear to a casual outing. A long and beige trench coat presents him from freezing to death. 

It shouldn’t matter much, what he’s wearing, if Sakusa was willing to have sex with him on the backseat while he was wearing a stupid jersey and was sticky with energy drink poured all over him, but it matters to Atsumu. They’re supposed to go on a date, and he’s seen Sakusa enough out of practice to know the man can dress for the gods _when_ he wants to, and that even when he wears the most basic and chill outfits he still has that neat and sexy aura about him. 

And if everything was going according to the book, what Atsumu wears should be the only thing to fry his brain over when thinking about the fact they might be going on a date… Unfortunately, Atsumu seems to be suffering a severe and atrocious case of poor timing. It seems like over two decades of being an asshole are persistently catching up to him at the worst possible time and today is no different.

It’s just as bad as refusing a blowjob from Sakusa Kiyoomi because you can’t recall when was your last STDs screening… Or it’s _worse_ , considering it’s the continuation of the same clownery.

Atsumu’s teeth snap over the hardened sugar as he gnaws on the lollipop more than he sucks on it, scrolling through his emails. For the fifth time since he got there, he opens one in particular and reads over the words on display.

The sender, first. A secretary from a hospital Atsumu is starting to be familiar with. Then the content of the email, then—

_Clack!_

“Aw! Jeez! What the—Omi-kun!”

Atsumu is bent forward and wincing, hand clasped over his jaw, sipping back the drool that’s second away from dribbling all over his chin grossly.

Somehow Sakusa got out of the gymnasium and circled the building discreetly enough that Atsumu, too engrossed in the contemplation of that one email, didn’t notice. Sakusa could have let his presence known by clearing his throat or announcing himself but he’s as much of a weirdo as Atsumu is, so he had to come from behind and snatch his lollipop right when he was about to bite on it.

The time for Atsumu to realize, his teeth had snapped and now there’s nothing left to do but try not to look like a whining baby while he massages his jaw and refrain from glaring.

Sakusa is standing in front of him, lollipop in one hand, the other on his left hip, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief, or disdain. A mix of both, if Atsumu squints hard enough.

But what is certain is that he doesn’t need to look too closely to see the faint blush over Sakusa’s nose and cheekbones. 

Right… some would say Atsumu is right out a moron for unwrapping a lollipop when they’re currently here because — or thanks to — one of those in the first place.

Despite the faint hints that give away how flustered Sakusa is, he doesn’t lose his composure in the least. Instead he walks away, not so far, toward the nearest trashcan. Atsumu doesn’t even grieve the poor candy that falls directly into the pit, because his attention is directly focused on the next words he hears.

“Your fault for coming armed to the teeth, quite literally. I like to play it fair.”

Sakusa turns on his heel to face him again, not quite moody, but not looking as confident as he’s trying to sound. That makes Atsumu feel slightly less giddy and his chest feels warmer suddenly. No matter how unnerving the whole situation has been since he cornered Sakusa in the storage room, there’s one thing that prevents Atsumu from completely losing it, and it’s the fact that Sakusa seems as gawky when it comes to dance around their weird partition. Yet they both won’t let go. No matter how embarrassing or how out of hand it gets. 

Unrelenting and prideful. Clumsy but frantic. 

It takes _two_ persons to—

“I know that logo, by the way,” Sakusa’s voice isn’t wavering but he’s looking away as he speaks up again.

Atsumu’s thought process comes to a jarring halt. A logo… Oh, _that_ logo, in the signature of the email. The hospital logo.

“And I know your brother checked out.”

Atsumu would never have fallen for an idiot. Not his type, somehow, he ends up attracted to brainy people. Quick-witted, sharp people. With a sense of observation as sharp as his own. 

“No one ever told ya it’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder?” Atsumu fires, pocketting his phone with brute force.

Sakusa shrugs, not really embarrassed, but the faint blush is back and Atsumu’s throat feels dry.

The jerk visibly had the same idea as Atsumu and isn’t wearing any sportswear. Instead his black turtleneck is fitting just right over his broad shoulders and slander waist and the black pants he’s wearing with his boots are just tight enough to remind Atsumu that MSBY number fifteen doesn’t have to shy away when it comes to who has the strongest thighs in the team.

Alright, he’s doomed. Why did it have to be someone sharp _and_ sexy! Someone sharp and sexy who seems on the same page as he is and is taking their potential date seriously… Atsumu is doubly doomed. To think Sakusa isn't dressed casually when he couldn't give a shit about what he looks like... 

“I won’t be taking any lecture about courtesy from you, Miya. Now will you spit it out or do we stand here and tiptoe around it like two idiots all afternoon long?”

It’s _Miya_ again. It was _Atsumu_ yesterday, just for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t want it to be Miya all over again. 

“I never planned on staying here. I was savouring my appetizer waiting for you,” Atsumu protests, pointing at the trashcan where his lollipop lies. “Just so we could go and have breakfast.”

That is before he received an email from the hospital telling him he can drop by and pick his results up. Not that it changed his plans. The results can wait, especially because he’s not concerned by them in the slightest. He can still go on a date, no matter the outcome.

It’s a date, in a cute café. He doesn’t need a STDs screening for that. All Atsumu needs is to keep his head clear, out of the horny fog that’s been clouding his judgement for weeks, because they have to _talk._ They do.

Even now, when they’re bickering, Atsumu wants nothing but to tell the date to go to hell and kiss Sakusa senseless, like they’ve been doing for the past two days… But after some intense reflection and his brother and brother’s boyfriend nagging, Atsumu has reached the conclusion that he craves a lot more than a shady sexual encounter here and there. And that’s not something he can just manifest by wishful thinking and thrusting his tongue down Sakusa’s throat. 

Still… it crossed his mind that, maybe, just maybe, in the event that the date _is_ indeed a date, and it ends just the right way… then Atsumu would love to be able to tell Sakusa that he got his results and they don’t have to hold back like clueless teens they aren’t but keep acting like. 

“Let’s go, then. I’ll drive,” Sakusa says, walking past him this time, heading toward the parking lot.

“We don’t hafta!” Atsumu calls after him a little fast. “The café is right around the corner!”

Sakusa stops in his tracks, looks back over his shoulder.

“Yes? And it’s already too late to have breakfast, so I guess you won’t mind if it waits a little longer for when we’re back from the hospital.”

Atsumu gulps so hard it’s audible, and not only to him. Sakusa resumes the pace, looking and walking away.

“Okay, okay, okay… Okay,” Atsumu breathes out quietly, eyes cracked wide open, before he follows him in a rush. “So… just to be clear, we’re gonna pick up my STDs results, right?”

Sakusa doesn’t turn around at that, just jolts his car keys in his hand.

“I don’t know, Miya. Do you have anything better to do on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Well, there is _one_ thing, but in order to do that safely, it’s worth making a stop by the hospital first.

“After you, Omi-kun.” 

He sounds confident, he looks confident, so why does Atsumu feel like his heart is leaping in his throat when the car doors bang shut and they find themselves confined in the narrow space is a mystery.

Sakusa reaches behind them to drop his coat and duffel bag on the backseat but Atsumu keeps his own clutched in his lap. It takes him thirty seconds, the time for Sakusa to get them on the road, before he blurts out: “That’s not awkward, right?” Immediately followed by the intense urge of punching himself in the face. 

Atsumu forces himself to look sideways at his teammate whose body language doesn’t give anything away.

“What are you referring to, exactly? It’s not like I have a list or anything, but you need to be more specific here, Miya.”

Well, now Atsumu doesn’t care much if he just made things weird again, because Sakusa is smirking. Confidently.

He’s not mad or disdainful either. He’s playful.

Atsumu might have overreacted this morning when he had a meltdown over the phone. 

“I have no fuckin’ idea what you mean, Omi-kun. We’re just the epitome of two volleyball bros chillin’ in the car five feet apart cause they’re not gay.”

He doesn’t expect Sakusa to be shaken by a poorly contained laughter at that, nor does Atsumu expect it to make his heart flutter.

It’s overwhelming how simple it is to drift back to the comfortable atmosphere they’ve known for so long. The fact they almost smashed it because they couldn’t act on some stupid sexual frustration and turned into an even bigger pair of morons seems crazy now that Atsumu thinks about it.

“Call us volleyball bros one more time, just _one_ more time,” Sakusa starts with a warning tone but there’s an unshakable grin twisting the corner of his lips.

Atsumu can’t help but stare. 

“Or what. What’s it gonna be today? Throwing me out of the car again? You gotta be a little more creative for me to really take you seriously,” he easily teases.

“I’d save the cocky attitude for another time, Miya.”

“You mean a time when I render the great Sakusa Kiyoomi completely flabbergasted with the perfect date?”

The words are, not so surprisingly these days, out before Atsumu can think properly. And naturally it’s a solid reason to freak out. They _never_ said it was a date so it might be the moment of truth ; except Atsumu didn’t want it to happen that soon. Not when they’re stuck in a car at least… He needs to land back on his feet and fast. 

If Atsumu gets rejected, it can’t be in a speeding vehicle on the driveway. He’s dramatic but not dramatic enough to throw himself out. So he needs a way out, and the only way is to give one to Sakusa.

“In the crazy scenario where you’d go on a date with me willingly, right?” Atsumu scoffs too fast, almost ends up choking in the process.

Damn, it hurts. His throat hurts, his pride hurts… And the silence engulfing them does even more. Atsumu screwed up and is about to get rejected. 

Sakusa doesn’t say a word for so long, and it’s stretching. Maybe throwing himself out of the car isn’t so bad. It would sting a lot less.

But there’s a sudden long exhale, one that is slightly shaky, Atsumu is sure of it, although how he hears it over the blood rushing in his ears is a miracle. 

“I’m grateful you’re not scared of dying of shame,” Sakusa finally says. “You make things a ton easier for me.”

“Wha—What—hold up! What does that even mean!” Atsumu has a hard time breathing, his face growing hotter by the second.

“I mean that it’s wonderful you get to sit there and ask if things are awkward when we jerked each other off in that very car but can’t even admit we’re going on a date.”

Atsumu sucks in a sharp breath, head snapping back so he’s looking at the dashboard — or more precisely drilling holes in it — instead of his partner. If his twin could hear that, he’d probably choke, pass out or die from how hard he’d be laughing.

“Don’t be a jerk, it’s not like you can act almighty here,” Atsumu eventually groans, craving for some fresh air but refraining from opening the window.

“Maybe not, but I don’t intend on letting you get all the credit, Miya.”

“I asked you out,” Atsumu counters, knowing perfectly who he’s talking to, namely the man who doesn’t let anything unaccomplished or half-assed.

It’s a reassuring thought, when he thinks about it. If Sakusa was to reject him, he’d do it fully, but if he intends to try and see where the date-route leads them, Atsumu is pretty confident Sakusa won’t back track half-way, no matter how embarrassing it gets.

"Whatever," Sakusa mutters before a few seconds pass, then: “Flabbergasted, really?”

"Shaddap."

The tip of Atsumu's ears feels too hot. Sakusa is relentless, though, and eyes glued to the road he still decides to make Atsumu miserable because he can. 

"Gobsmacked. Thunderstruck. Flummoxed. Stupefied,” the words pop out of his mouth one by one.

"Stop! Ya literally just made up a word, you ass!" Atsumu interjects before he can go on. 

It makes Sakusa laugh again and Atsumu can’t look anywhere else but at him.

"I did not? You're just illiterate, Miya."

"Not my fault flummoxed sounds like some nasty cough syrup, ya college snob." 

Sakusa snorts and gives him a sideways glance, hand stilling on the wheel. 

"Are you brain-shaming me?" 

Atsumu stares at the slightly flexing muscles on Sakusa's forearm that shows where he rolled his sleeve up under the elbow, then up at his turtleneck wrapping nicely around his pale neck and the beautiful curls that Sakusa didn't slick back on the side after getting out of the shower. His throat dries a little more. He wants to wrap a hand there, on his nape, touch the hair he knows is so soft and kiss Sakusa.

Just… kiss him. And since it’s not like he can say _that,_ Atsumu decides to at least speak his feelings honestly, even if he’s teasing when he does so.

"Nah. I think that's hot. I think I wanna hear you be a snobbish prick all afternoon long and be _flummoxed_ a 'lil bit."

Sakusa doesn't answer that, his mouth only curls at the corner and his attention shifts back to the road. 

Atsumu must be dreaming. Sakusa isn't really willing to go on a date with him, right? Yet here they are, two volleyball idiots who obviously dressed up for each other and can't help but flirt obnoxiously and awkwardly.

They don’t speak for the next fifteen minutes that the ride to the hospital takes and past the first couple of minutes that feel a little suffocating because of the apprehension, it actually ends up feeling comfortable. 

Atsumu’s nervousness does build up again as Sakusa pulls up in the hospital parking lot. Again, he’s not worried about the results but…

“So, um… wait for me here and I’ll be back before ya know it, Omi-kun.”

“Uh?” Sakusa’s hand freezes over the buckle of his seatbelt.

Atsumu’s face flares up a little as he unbuckles his own seatbelt, shifting in the seat to look at Sakusa. 

“You’re not coming with me, that’d be—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sakusa frowns, interrupting him as his own belt clicks open. “I think we made it clear we’re past the awkwardness of—”

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu stops him, a hand flying to touch his exposed forearm.

He takes it back immediately, but at least it gets Sakusa to freeze on the spot. Atsumu looks through the windscreen at the entrance of the facility. He can’t see himself drag Sakusa in there. He eventually gives him a warm smile.

“That’s not it. It’ll be fast, ya don’t need to come in a crowded place full of sick people, right? I know we said we’re past bein’ awkward but today’s endgame is still to take you on a nice date. Not makin’ you do exactly what you hate the most, ‘kay?”

“I—well, you said it yourself. It’ll be fast,” Sakusa answers but for some reason, he’s averting his gaze and his voice is slightly uneven when he mutters the last words.

“Exactly. So please bear with me!” Atsumu asks, opening the door already. “You know what? I don’t wanna wait. How about you look up for nice cafés around this place instead so we don’t have to head back all the way? You choose the place, it’s on me anyway.”

Sakusa clears his throat and tilts his head to look at Atsumu as he steps outside. He cocks an eyebrow, his faint smile back on his lips.

“I know a fancy place,” he says.

“Alright, I get it. Goin’ broke before the day is over,” Atsumu pretends to roll his eyes before going to bang the door shut.

“You thought you could buy me with some onigiris you won’t even pay or some cheap Happy Meal, Miya?” Sakusa asks before he can close it.

“I thought I was the vain one,” Atsumu corrects, leaning in with a cocky smile. 

“Sorry we’re not just competing for the biggest asshole…”

“Yer gonna lose anyway!” 

This time Atsumu slams the door before Sakusa gets the chance to snap back. He tugs on the sleeves of his sweater while exhaling long and slow. It’ll be just a few minutes. He’s getting back the screening, then he’s in the car and they can get to business. Atsumu is going to win Sakusa over and it will all go according to plan.

**From Miya Atsumu, 3.12PM:**

Uh… there might be a tiny problem Omi-kun ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

To say that Kiyoomi’s blood freezes in his veins after reading that text is a ridiculous understatement. 

**From Miya Atsumu, 3.12PM:**

OMG wait!! NO! Not like that! It’s not about the results! I mean it is but not!

Kiyoomi’s heartbeat is _racing_ so violently in his chest, he’s feeling his pulse in his throat when the phone he’s clenching in his hand starts vibrating, indicating he’s receiving a call from Atsumu.

He turns the low music down entirely, picking up the call as he tries to calm down. His voice feels raw from how dry his tongue is when Kiyoomi croaks out a “What is it, Atsumu?”

“Don’t worry! Oh god, thank fuck you picked up! Sorry I didn’t mean that! Don’t worry I didn’t get my results yet, so sorry!” 

On the other end of the line, Atsumu apologizes profusely, and Kiyoomi feels like he can breathe again but when his voice raises anew, this time it’s a lot less alarmed, and a lot more _brutal._

“What the _fuck,_ Miya!”

“I know, I know! Sorry, I just didn’t think! Everything’s fine!”

“Then spit it out, dammit! Oh my god, are you an idiot?” Kiyoomi cranes his neck, creaking it to ease the tension in his shoulders and nape a little, his blood pressure still too high for comfort.

“I know, shit I’m—There’s a delay! I only got parts of the results which are negative so far and… you’re gonna kill me...”

“No shit! Yeah, I fucking might,” Kiyoomi hisses through gritted teeth.

“The nurse told me I’ll get the last part later. They got two forms mixed up and I have to wait just a ‘lil… Omi-kun? You’re still there? I’m sorry...”

Kiyoomi lets go of a long, shaky sigh, unsuccessfully pulling the phone away from his face. Atsumu is calling his name on the other end while Kiyoomi tries to calm down for good. It’s fine, it’s nothing. Just a minor inconvenience, not some devastating news…

“I hate you,” he eventually snaps weakly. “How long?”

“Mmh…” there’s a pause and Kiyoomi thinks about the cafés he was just looking up around Osaka. “An hour-ish?” Atsumu finally admits sheepishly.

Kiyoomi wants to scream. He won’t do that, he’d _never_ scream but damn if he wants to punch something right now. Preferably someone. Preferably Miya Atsumu. But it’s not his fault, is it? If the hospital mixed up forms and they have to wait, Atsumu isn’t responsible. He’s just responsible for shortening Kiyoomi’s lifespan by a solid couple of years with a nasty fright but he didn’t mean to prank him.

Kiyoomi goes for another long suffering sigh instead, grounding himself by sinking in his seat, eyes closed. They really, _really,_ can’t seem to do things right, do they?

They are going completely backward, they have to be awkward, and now the whole universe seems to be playing some sick kind of game to test them — just when they admitted they were going on a real date and Kiyoomi made up his mind about getting serious about this.

It’s very like them, now that he thinks about it. Kiyoomi looks back on years of them tip-toeing around each other and, it’s _very_ like them. 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he eventually says, quietly, through a clenched jaw.

“You don’t have to! I’m sorry, really! If you want to go back to the dorms, I’ll grab something to eat and drop by later!” Atsumu immediately protests.

“I’m _coming,_ ” Kiyoomi repeats, grabbing his coat on the backseat, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 _Calm down, it’s fine._

He’ll mourn the nice café date later. He can do that somewhere between questioning his life choices and mentally projecting the demise of anyone in this hospital who got them there.

Precisely in a white corridor that smells strongly of bitter antiseptic and fake chemical flavors supposed to cover the detergent odor assaulting Kiyoomi’s nostrils through his mask. Because there’s a difference between feeling the surge and need to clean every surface around you and basking in the smell of the solutions used to sanitize the place. Kiyoomi never particularly liked it.

“Could have waited in the car,” Atsumu moans for the third time since Kiyoomi located him near the lobby, head in hands.

“For an hour?” Kiyoomi asks crisply, unable to hide his reluctance.

“This is—”

“If you say it’s your fault one more time, they’ll have to search for a bed for you here,” Kiyoomi warns.

And just when Atsumu opens his mouth, ready to retort something, Kiyoomi’s stomach decides to rumble loudly. Atsumu's mouth closes and opens again, and Kiyoomi thinks he might be done. Maybe he should just sit in a corner and ask to be sedated.

Maybe this was a mistake, maybe it’s—

Atsumu’s hand finds his wrist, shyly sneaking in one of Kiyoomi’s trench coat sleeves, and his fingers curl at the base of his hand in a light touch.

“Come with me, Omi,” he tells him, still sheepish, but determined.

Kiyoomi has _no idea_ where they’re supposed to go, but the sudden touch, while he was feeling so tense and trying to shield himself in his huge coat to ward off any contact with a surface or a hospital worker, is calming him a little.

He’s famished and grumpy, and his nerves were tested too severely just earlier. He knows he should calm down, so Kiyoomi just gives a shrug and hides in his upturned collar to follow Atsumu.

He can’t bite on his zipper with his mask on, and that might be for the best, because with how tight he’s clenching his jaw right now, he’d probably file his teeth on the metallic bit.

Atsumu leads him along a few corridors until they reach a wider space; some sort of waiting area with a few tables and many benches and chairs. Empty, lone spots are scarce but Atsumu eventually sits Kiyoomi down in a mostly empty corner. 

“Alright, wait here,” Atsumu abandons him immediately.

Kiyoomi wraps himself up tighter in his coat, hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders hunched. It’s too warm in there, but he’d rather die than adopt another posture right now. Surprisingly, he finds out he’d like Atsumu’s company — physical company.

At least, he doesn’t have to wait for long.

A steaming paper cup is pushed under his nose a couple of minutes later. It’s filled with a dark liquid with a faint but bittersweet aroma that transpires through his mask. Kiyoomi squints before looking up, mechanically reaching out for the cup.

Atsumu is standing in front of him, balancing another cup and some kind of chocolate bar in his hands. 

“Took the liberty of gettin’ you some jasmine tea. Their coffee tastes like shit,” he explains. “You were hungry too.”

Kiyoomi looks at the Kit Kat chocolate bar reluctantly. He rarely eats sweet snacks to avoid messing with his carefully laid out diet but he was going to cheat today at the café anyway so he snatches the treat and nods.

Atsumu drops in the seat next to him, sighing loudly and taking a sip of the beverage he bought for himself. It obviously doesn’t taste wonderful, seeing how the corner of his lips twitch with mild disgust and Kiyoomi sends him a quizzical glance.

“Their hot chocolate sucks too.”

“Wonderful,” Kiyoomi mumbles, looking down at the cup of tea that’s warming up his hand. “I’ll leave a five star review on their Yelp page.”

“What?” Atsumu scoffs. “Flummoxed yet, Omi-kun?”

“I’ll throttle you,” the Kiyoomi deadpans before pulling down his mask and warily taking a sip of his tea.

The beverage is… average. At least Kiyoomi doesn’t feel like he’ll have to fight a wince each time he gulps some down.

“We can still go to a nicer place after that,” Atsumu offers.

He sounds hopeful, it makes Kiyoomi relax a little more, leaning back against the wall, throwing his head back and looking at Atsumu from the corner of his eye.

“Didn’t you say this is going to take an hour?”

Atsumu stares back, intently.

“Around, ye. I don’t—They didn’t say exactly, so…”

Kiyoomi sighs and brings the Kit Kat wrapper to Atsumu’s lips.

Surprisingly on cue, Atsumu bites on the corner of the foil, eyes glued to Kiyoomi’s face. They could be sharing a milkshake with two straws and be annoyingly cute right now. Instead, despite the bothersome situation, he feels his stomach flip a little as he stares at the lips parted around the wrapper of a vending machine snack. 

Kiyoomi is really staring at Atsumu’s mouth, right now… in the middle of a stupid waiting area in a hospital, and he finds it hot. Kiyoomi has to snap out of it when a familiar warmth spreads down his belly, up his legs… 

To cover his own embarrassment he tears at the wrapper, snatching carefully the chocolate bar away from Atsumu’s face to open it. Atsumu lets go of it, licking his lips quickly before sipping more of his drink.

Kiyoomi doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to be in a nice café either. Shit. He wants to take Atsumu home, _now._ Is this even normal? He thought about it, Kiyoomi doesn’t just want sex, he—

“Omi-kun?”

Atsumu is leaning on the side looking at him in wonder, hanging off his seat with his hands in his lap like a curious overgrown child.

Yeah, no, Kiyoomi definitely doesn’t just want what they have when they’re stealing moments in a dark corner or fooling in the backseat of a car.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re the vain one. I don’t need you to bring me to a fancy place to get impressed or whatever this was about,” he teases lightly, peeling more of the wrapper away from the chocolate bar.

“Excuse me?” Atsumu exclaims loud enough to draw attention. “I didn’t do that to impress ya, asshole! I just wanted… I wanted to do something nice. You’re a huge prick!” he adds all that in a hushed tone, but agitated just the same.

It makes Kiyoomi grin.

“Still taking the huge prick on a date. And _what a date!_ ”

“At least I’m tryin’, what are _you_ doin’?” Atsumu points out, gnawing on the rim of his paper cup.

“I’m keeping you company so you don’t freak while waiting on your STDs results and I get freaked out in return, dumbass,” Kiyoomi shrugs, bringing the chocolate bar to his lips.

His stomach growls again, on cue.

“I said I was sorry already, O—Oi. What the ever lovin’ fuck are ya doin’?” 

Atsumu suddenly stops with the heated tone to shift to a grave, stunned expression. Kiyoomi stops moving, the chocolate bar hanging by his lips. 

“Eating my treat?” Kiyoomi answers, as stunned by the shift in the atmosphere.

“You’re gonna bite into that Kit Kat bar like a savage? Omi! What the hell!” 

“Are you high? What am I supposed to do with it if not eating it?” he asks, dumbfounded to find Atsumu doesn’t really seem to be joking.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t _eat_ it, I said not to act like a lawless freak!” He’s whispering so loudly it’s a miracle no one’s watching them. 

Atsumu is causing a scene, and Kiyoomi can’t pinpoint just why, just—

“I promise if you bite into that Kit Kat without snapping it in half, you’re _walkin’_ home,” he eventually supplies Kiyoomi with the reason for his meltdown.

Somehow, Kiyoomi can’t recall the last time he laughed that loud, especially in public.

He wants to kiss him. Atsumu wants to kiss Sakusa. He wants to reach out and kiss the air out of him, he wants to kiss this laugh, keep it all to himself.

Kiyoomi is beautiful. Atsumu wonders if he’ll be allowed to kiss him again, soon, more than once. On this date? Are they going to date…? Which reminds him why they’re here and while he stares in awe, his chest tight, at the other man who’s trying to conceal his laugh now that he realized he’s being loud in the open, that today wasn’t just meant for them to hang out and share a _parfait_ and a milkshake.

They’re supposed to talk, eventually, and Atsumu sure won’t be able to think if Sakusa keeps being gorgeous and distracts him.

He comes up with a radical way to get his attention, one he’s pretty sure will work in his favor. There’s no way Sakusa is getting the upper hand in the _who’s giving the other the most disgusting butterflies in the stomach_ competition.

_Scronch!_

Sakusa sucks in his breath, eyes snapping open. Atsumu looks back at him, eyes narrowed into slits, mouth _full_.

The Kit Kat bar is hanging between them, Atsumu’s teeth imprint very clear and unapologetically running through the two columns at once despite his passionate previous rant. He chews on the treat slowly, the crispy part crunching as he does so and feels his face growing hot when Kiyoomi effectively can’t look away.

Maybe Atsumu swallows the lump in his throat along with the Kit Kat bit.

“What are you doing?” Sakusa asks under his breath, pretending to be shocked.

“What I do best.”

“Causing mayhem?” Sakusa teases.

“Asking for attention,” Atsumu decides not to lie. 

It takes Sakusa aback, Atsumu’s face grows hot.

“You have it. You’ve pretty much had it for quite some time now,” he says quietly, turning in his seat so he’s not looking at Atsumu anymore, before biting into the chocolate bar without concern for the part he snatched already.

Somehow, that’s what makes Atsumu blush faintly. Still… 

“You’ve had mine for as long, though it didn’t led us far ‘til now,” Atsumu presses on.

“Well,” Sakusa looks around minutely before lowering his voice. “I beg to differ.”

“Do you, now?”

Atsumu can’t help sounding genuinely confused.

“I don’t know what you meant exactly by that but I personally found that doing… what we did… got me _thinking_ ,” Sakusa explains, hesitating with the words more because they might be heard than because he’s too shy to properly name it, obviously. “And I thought a lot. And it took me far enough, thank you very much.”

Atsumu feels antsy, his heartbeat suddenly speeding up. That’s it. It’s happening. They’re _talking._ Although they're not naming names or being very eloquent. 

“Did you?” 

Sakusa’s gaze tracks back to Atsumu and he can’t help but roll his eyes at the dumb question but Atsumu is a little dumbstruck right now. He forces himself to focus, though.

“I’m nervous. No shit, I know, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says before Sakusa can even open his mouth. “I did too. I do... It’s slightly—obsessing, kinda.”

Sakusa seems to think for a second, his eyes getting slightly darker, and it doesn’t matter how much Atsumu is used to them being so blunt with each other, you can never brace yourself for the man you have the biggest crush on delivering these lines.

“Obsessing? Like when you’re fixating so hard on your teammate you literally lose your shit every time he unwraps a lollipop? Or you mean like staying up at night because you really want to kiss him again and it’s a problem because you’re supposed to spike his set during the day, not space out and get all aggressive about it?”

Atsumu’s throat closes up, his heart go _pow!_ in his chest, as Shou-kun would probably describe it best.

“I really want to kiss ya, _right now,_ ” he breathes out, jaw hanging slightly.

“It kind of happens to me too,” Sakusa goes on, still resolutely looking away but even now that he placed his mask back on his face, Atsumu can see the pale higher part of his cheeks turning pink. “Is it going to be a problem?”

No. _No!_

“Well, uh…” Atsumu tries to sort his thoughts, they’re reeling. “I’m pretty sure you’re a bastard enough to find a thousand reasons why it would be, but… not on my part. I like kissin’ you. I love it, Kiyoomi.”

“I can think of a few,” Sakusa admits, unsurprisingly, but the nagging tone falls short when he sounds so hoarse. “But I like it too.”

“Meaning…”

Sakusa finally shifts in his seat to exchange a glance. What a picture they must be right now, two big men barely able to maintain eye contact and hushing words when they talk about kissing.

“Meaning we probably could find a few opportunities to do it again. If we do it right.”

This is… such a Sakusa thing to say, that Atsumu can’t help and feel the tension in his shoulders ease off tremendously. Objectively, it’s a little lame. It’s not like Sakusa just told him they should date and kiss at will. But for a reason he can’t explain, it’s a lot better. 

“I’ll work hard,” Atsumu tells him. “I’m persistent.”

“I’d have phrased that a lot less nicely,” Sakusa taunts. 

“‘Cause you’re an asshole. A stubborn one. I know _you_ can work hard too, when ya want to…” 

The words trail off. They’re tiptoeing around it so bad… That won’t do. But it’s Atsumu’s turn to be blunt about it.

“Alright, I’ll just say it. Are ya willing to commit and put some thought into a... relationship?”

There’s a moment of really, really, scary silent, because the choice of words is more than tricky. They do face each other, though, not breaking eye contact. Sakusa is observing him so close, Atsumu feels too exposed. He backpedals a little.

“Relationship is a very vague concept, okay, we can work around—it’s only words, we don’t have to—”

“Atsumu.”

_Shit._

“Yes.”

“I’m glad that date turned out to be that lame, because if you were hoping to distract me with some cute macchiato topping so we wouldn’t sort that mess out, you’re awfully wrong and I’ll be leaving.”

It’s not a real threat, Atsumu knows it right away, but at the same time, Sakusa couldn’t be more clear. More straight to the point. He didn’t come here to play, neither of them did. His mind clears up suddenly.

What’s the worst outcome? Atsumu already got his teammate’s cock down his throat, there’s really no turning back now, no matter what comes out of their date. He hates that he wears his heart on his sleeve but can’t spew the words that matter when the person Atsumu really wants might not return his feelings.

Because that’s the thing. It would be easy to just grin and act all cool if it was about sex. Only about sex. 

But it’s not, and Atsumu is just realizing it won’t change a thing _now._

It won’t matter as long as they’re honest and they speak the same language, because it’s what always worked for them so far. Whether they fight or get together… They understand each other.

“Nah. I wasn’t plannin’ on that. So you’re gonna stay right here, enjoy that 130 yen disgusting tea and tell me if you’re up to commit and date me, Kiyoomi.”

It feels oddly calming, to finally admit it. To somehow come to terms with what he wants after being too busy frying his brain to really form coherent thoughts about what Atsumu wants. 

Of course, it’s unnerving, and obviously any kind of rejection will sting. It just won’t change what happened. 

The wait for Sakusa’s answer is more stressful than the one for Atsumu’s screening results, but he doesn’t let on, gaze steady, hands clutching his paper cup to keep them from fiddling with anything.

And although it’s not rejection, it comes too cryptic for comfort:

"Is that what you want?”

“I—”

Atsumu gives it a thought. Casual sex, he should have asked for casual sex, it would have been great already. He should have…

But that’s not what he wants, is it?

He looks at Sakusa Kiyoomi to whom he loves bringing a cup of coffee in the morning on his way back from his jog, who gets him when no one does and who’d wait in a cold hospital corridor he hates so much...

“Yes. That’s what I had in mind.”

Sakusa suddenly lets go of a long breath he was holding back.

“Thank fuck. You freaked me out being all nebulous, Miya.”

Atsumu startles, blinking slowly.

 _“I_ freaked you out? Sorry, what?”

“Relationship is a very vague concept?” Sakusa repeats the words, running a hand through his bangs.

Atsumu scoffs a little at that, tension definitely easing off.

“Okay, not my proudest moment. That was… that was actually me tryin’ not to freak you out.”

“Worked like a charm,” Sakusa mocks heart-lightedly. 

“Ya didn’t make it easy bein’ all grave and shit, Omi-kun!” Atsumu protests. “You’re sitting there all intense while I have to ask _you_ out of all people!”

“What does that even mean? Wanted to ask Bokuto out instead? Or a nurse? D’you want me to play wingman—”

Atsumu throws hands, jabbing Sakusa in the shoulder without thinking, without even noticing how much he wants to get his hands on him.

“Shaddap! _That_ , right there! You’re an asshole and I still want to…” Atsumu's sentence fades off, realizing he’s talking too loud again, so he adds the last words in a whisper. “... date ya.”

“Date me, uh.”

Sakusa leans back against the wall. The mask doesn’t help to decipher his expression but his eyes look soft when he tilts his head to the side to cast a quick glance sideways.

“I didn’t imagine it would be your brand, but at some point I wondered if you were going to offer some kind of casual quickies in filthy places and how much I’d actually be willing to agree just to be around you.”

“You _what_?”

Sakusa sighs before pulling his mask again to munch on the Kit Kat bar. He seems oddly relaxed, Atsumu is envious.

“I think I really hate you now.”

“You don’t make sense,” Atsumu tells him.

“I’m saying I want to date you and I need to process that.”

It’s Atsumu’s turn to burst into laughter.

“Fair!”

When he recovers and wipes the corner of his eyes to look at his teammate, Sakusa seems about to say something but he never does. He’s staring at his mouth, and a shiver runs along Atsumu's shoulders.

He needs to get his head out of the gutter immediately because he knows where’s it’s going otherwise and they’re in a stupid public space.

“Is there a trial period or somethin’ before we—”

“You’re on probation until I decide otherwise, Miya,” Sakusa deadpans, eyes trailing back to Atsumu’s.

They’re huge and dark, pupils blown wide. 

Out of the gutter, out…

“You don’t really hafta call me _Miya,_ ya know, Omi,” Atsumu sing-songs, turning his paper cup in his hands.

Sakusa quirks an eyebrow at him.

“And what am I supposed to call you? Meian? I don’t have a daddy kink, Mi—”

“Miya Atsumu?” a cold voice suddenly calls just as Atsumu’s jaw drops.

“Hold that thought, Omi!” Atsumu rushes to say, grinning like a mad man as he gets up in a hurry.

“Go die,” Sakusa drawls but he follows suit and gets to his feet.

“Don’t think I will. You’re gonna have to explain yourself later!”

He is already gone, the stupidest smirk plastered on his face. 

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue. Jokes on him, he’s rushing after Atsumu all the same. 

They did it. They talked it out. Not that it’s enough, and Kiyoomi is the biggest hypocrite in the universe when he tells Atsumu he’s frying his brain, because the gears in his head are _fuming_ from overthinking about a ridiculous amount of details _but_ —

_You’re an asshole and I still want to date ya._

Kiyoomi has no idea what it’s like to date one Miya Atsumu but all things considered, that delicate and romantic preamble feels safe and familiar. They already flirt all the time, they hang out…

And they already know what each other’s sweat tastes like.

The thought should be _revolting,_ and it probably will be when Kiyoomi isn’t on cloud nine any longer and Atsumu does something to get on his nerves.

Doesn’t mean he won’t be wanting to taste it again.

It’s revolting. Kiyoomi’s heart is fluttering. He’s smiling, hands in his pockets, glaring at anyone who dares walk too close to him. Revolting.

"What does it read!" 

Suddenly there’s a sheet of paper pressed in his face and Kiyoomi can’t glare at it without being cross-eyed so he simply ducks and resumes what he was desperately trying to do already: get the hell out of this facility.

“Don’t know, I'm Jared, nineteen, and I never fucking learned how to read,” Kiyoomi drawls flatly.

He’s slightly pissed that the beating muscle in his chest is doing somersaults at the mere mention of the word “negative” or what it implies. 

“You’d be Sunarin’s best friend if I was suicidal enough to introduce ya both,” Atsumu comments just as they step outside of the hospital.

He seems to be trying to contain some sort of childish excitement that Kiyoomi refuses to share right now. They still have a solid twenty-minutes ride back whether they decide to go back to the dorms or hang out in Osaka… Which Kiyoomi finds unappealing.

Damn, he’s not excited, he’s _aroused._

Atsumu’s tests are all negative, they don’t have to hang around here any longer and it’s not like they have big plans so Kiyoomi has to suppress the voice in his head that dares yapping they should fuck right there and then! They just agreed to date, and okay, the first one was ruined but they tried to go on a proper date. Kiyoomi can’t succumb to whatever voice in his head is telling him to act like a crazy teenager high on hormones and need for sex.

It’s annoying enough to find out that his dick’s voice sounds like a kansai-ben-less version of Atsumu according to his subconscious. Kiyoomi clicks his tongue.

“As appealing as that sounds, what the fuck do we do now, Miya?”

Damn! His attempt at sounding unbothered is probably ruined by the way Kiyoomi snaps. As if it wasn’t already falling apart with how fast he’s rushing to his car…

“Oh! Uh… Ya still hungry?” Atsumu answers, stopping in his tracks, expression morphing into genuine concern.

Kiyoomi thinks about that for a second, stopping in turn.

No matter _how_ he decides to answer that question, the answer will be _yes._

“You treated me to half a Kit Kat chocolate bar,” Kiyoomi states the fact to avoid answering directly.

He can see Atsumu blow a fuse from miles away. He sees it in the way his golden eyes widen minutely. His heart tries a backflip next, but Kiyoomi can’t hide the fondness in his voice when he walks to the other man and grabs him by the sleeve on an impulse.

“Can we just go home?” 

Atsumu snaps out of it at that, eyes glued to Kiyoomi’s hand on his coat. When he looks up, he nods shortly and then he’s the one dragging Kiyoomi to his own car.

“Anything you want, Omi. Just stop the car by a konbini on the way, ‘kay? I’m not done showin’ you what a gentleman I am, I might find another half chocolate bar.”

Kiyoomi chuckles lightly but his heart clenches.

He wants to kiss him so badly. So badly, he must be stupid. It’s a little like now that he gave the green light for his brain to fantasize freely it won’t stop thinking about it.

But if he’s allowed to think about it and doing it, there are still timing and places issues.

They’re in the middle of a parking lot. They’re in public. They’re two men.

And they both think about the same thing when they stop to look at each other over the roof of the car before getting in. It’s fleeting, a short glance, but it says enough for the air inside of the car to get charged with enough electricity to catch on fire with a single spark.

Kiyoomi entertains the idea of stopping on the road long enough for them to make it to the store where Atsumu is adamant about him staying in the car while he goes and buys whatever he needs to cook for Kiyoomi. Which, objectively, is adorable but also allows Kiyoomi to sink a little more in his thoughts as he waits alone.

He really has no idea what they’re doing. Are they together _just like that?_

“They did _not_ have Kit Kat chocolate bars, I’m suing,” Atsumu’s voice startles Kiyoomi. “Sorry, they really said fuck Omi-kun’s rights to have a nice date.”

Kiyoomi's breath stutters. He _hopes_ they’re together _just like that_ — although Kiyoomi will never admit that to any living soul.

Atsumu spends the last five minutes back home explaining what he’s going to cook for them, and all Kiyoomi can think about is how _hungry_ he is. It’s turning over and over in his mind. Again and again. Hungry.

He doesn’t even realize that he agrees for them to end up in his room before Atsumu actually presses the elevator button to Kiyoomi’s floor. The third one. Same floor as Hinata. 

The facility houses different athletes and Hinata and Kiyoomi, the last recruits of the Black Jackals ended up on a different floor than Bokuto, Atsumu and the others who still live in the dorms.

Kiyoomi has been planning to move out for a moment but suddenly the idea seems a little less appealing. Atsumu has lived here for the past two years when the team was moved in at the same time and he doesn’t seem to want to get his own place soon. 

Thank whatever god Kiyoomi clearly forgot to pray to this morning, they’re not so unlucky that they have to come across their sunshine of a middle blocker and both men make it smoothly to Kiyoomi’s door.

Smoothly.

Then why are Kiyoomi’s hands shaking when he fishes for his keys while Atsumu makes a point of inspecting every damn corner of the corridor, granted it’s nowhere near Kiyoomi’s face?

They’re a mess. But Kiyoomi does succeed in opening the door and lets him in before he follows fast, shutting it with more force than necessary. That makes Atsumu stiffen in the very tiny corridor that leads to the bathroom on the right and displays the small kitchen area on the left and directly connects to the main room. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t let people in usually. Even Atsumu has only been there twice to watch a game recorded by Kiyoomi and they were joined by Adriah one of the two times.

Now, with Atsumu turning around to look at him and _past_ him at the closed door... they’re very, extremely alone, Kiyoomi registers with every nerve endings in his body tingling.

He takes in the metallic thud when Atsumu drops the grocery bag he was carrying at his feet. Probably some cans. 

Their eyes trail down to it as it crumbles on the ground in a soft plastic ruffle, then back up, to stare at each other.

Kiyoomi is the kind of person to take logistics into consideration when he rents a flat, a room, anything… So far, he’s done that taking into account that he is _one_ 192cm tall athlete. It’s important for dimensions, because when you’re this tall, you don’t want to ruin your back with a kitchen counter that’s too low, for example. 

You never think about checking dimensions to see if you can fit _said 192cm tall athlete_ on top of the kitchen countertop. The answer is that you can’t when you own a range hood but it doesn’t stop Atsumu from trying to hoist Kiyoomi up the small surface next to the sink.

He would almost _not_ mind it too much because the moment Atsumu’s lips are on his, a lot of the things surrounding him vanish from his concerns. Unfortunately, the hood digs in his skull and the counter definitely is high enough for him not to ruin his back, but also too high for Atsumu to fit between his legs the right way.

Something scrunches under Atsumu’s feet when Kiyoomi pushes him back against the opposite wall — but it’s not like Kiyoomi has a grieving thought to spare for a bag of chips. They hit the bathroom’s door almost instantly. Fuck the dorms’ logistics. 

Atsumu keens under him, fingers digging in Kiyoomi’s arms from the shock and that makes them both snap out of it a little.

Kiyoomi’s heart is pounding, absolutely _pounding,_ when they part — just enough to breathe, pressed into each other chest to chest. And he feels it too, Atsumu’s heartbeat, just as frenetic. 

“Are you sure we’re not gettin’ lunch, or breakfast, or whatever before…” Atsumu asks with genuine concern.

His cheekbones are tainted with red blotches, his nose pink, and his pupils are two round and black marbles, but here he is still asking about Kiyoomi’s well being. Kiyoomi’s stomach better not rumble now, because _no,_ no he doesn’t want to wait for them to share a meal.

His hand fumbles behind Atsumu to find the door knob and he shakes his head slowly.

“We’re getting in the shower,” he grunts instead, clearing his throat when he hears the gravel in his voice. “Okay?”

“We showered before goin’ to the hos—oh, _right_. Yeah, okay, okay!” 

Kiyoomi’s heart swells in his chest when Atsumu connects the dots without him having to explain and there it is again. The way Atsumu gets him no matter how other people would question his needs. 

He pushes the door open and they stumble backward in the bathroom that becomes cramped when it has to fit two professional volleyball players at once. Taking your coats and clothes off should be a little sexier, but in the frenzy, they actually don’t care.

Kiyoomi doesn’t. He doesn’t care for sexy settings when he’s literally undressing one of the hottest men in the entire V-league. Or he is _trying_ but then Atsumu breaks the kiss again, this time to turn around and bend over the tiny sink. Kiyoomi is confused at first but when he sees him washing his hands there’s no being confused anymore.

Why did Kiyoomi wait for Atsumu to be into lollipops to get it?

He could dwell on that but a pair of now-clean hands are back on him, finding a path under his sweater and startling him with a cool but not unpleasant sensation. He boxes Atsumu against the sink, arms circling him to reach for the tap too just when Atsumu's mouth latches on his neck, but Atsumu starts laughing a little breathlessly when he realizes Kiyoomi is washing his own hands with him trapped in his arms.

The vibration against his throat is more arousing that it tickles. Kiyoomi eyelids flutter as he tries to ground himself with the cold water running through his fingers. It's pointless and it's with wet hands that he pulls Atsumu's sweater over his head to get rid of it. 

Pants soon pool around their ankles hazardously as long as they stand there exchanging a heated kiss because there’s literally no space to step out of them apart from the shower cubicle.

They’re almost naked, and that sudden realization only really dawns on Kiyoomi when he slots a leg between Atsumu’s and his clothed erection rubs against Kiyoomi's thigh. 

It _only_ dawns on him, that another man is pressed against him with no layer of clothes between them apart from their underwear. And Kiyoomi didn’t even think about it until now, because all that mattered was that he was _finally_ allowed to touch Atsumu, to kiss Atsumu…

“Omi-kun? Omi?”

Two gentle hands cup his face, they’re trembling. Atsumu is trembling against him, and with the room temperature, it’s clearly not from the cold. Kiyoomi snaps out of his trance, listening to Atsumu’s voice instead. It might be the nerves.

“Everything okay?”

The arm around his shoulders slides down his back, rests against the curve at the small of Kiyoomi’s back to hold him still but allows him to get more space if needed.

Kiyoomi finds himself yearning. To the core.

He’s physically yearned for Atsumu for ages, he went silly over it multiple times, but what is happening right now, what made Kiyoomi strip naked pressed against another body without a second thought... It’s another level of desiring that man.

“I—”

He can say it, it’s easy, he’s not even ashamed. But his throat feels so tight, his heart is clenching and Atsumu does not act like an idiot, he doesn’t do anything to piss him off, neither to make him laugh… All he does is make Kiyoomi _long_ for him.

“It’s okay, Kiyoomi. I want you too.”

Atsumu has been wanting to get the words out for so long, yet they were oddly stuck in his throat. Maybe because it wasn’t the right time yet, maybe because he needed Sakusa to look at him like he’s the answer to all his questions.

It’s not something he’s ever seen in those dark eyes, what Atsumu just found. Sakusa is as blunt as he is, but contrary to him, he’s not open about his feelings, he’s guarded. You have to earn it, when it matters, because it’s easy to get roasted on the spot by him, to get an earful of Sakusa’s honest thinking but that doesn’t mean you can expect him to let you in on his emotions.

And if Sakusa doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, Atsumu thinks he can help with that. He’s still feeling dizzy anytime he brings up his own raw feelings _but_ he’s a lot less scared than he was just this morning, and by far than he was when he realized that Sakusa meant more to him than a teammate and Atsumu tried to bury that thought.

Sakusa reacts to the words immediately, pouncing on Atsumu once again, searching for his mouth eagerly, a little desperately. Atsumu isn’t ashamed that his answer is just as frantic. 

He can feel Sakusa pushing him slowly but surely toward the shower but Atsumu waits before following directions. Instead his hands follow in tandem his lips when they trail down, until he’s kissing Sakusa’s jaw and his fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers.

“Go on,” he’s asked.

So Atsumu does, and unlike that time in the storage room where he was greedy or that stolen moment in the car where they were too clumsy… he takes his time and drags the piece of fabric down in the most intimate way he’s touched another man in ages.

Maybe in forever, because it’s _Kiyoomi._

Not because he’s fragile, or because he’ll break if Atsumu is too rough ; but because Atsumu is just taking the privilege he’s been given all in. 

Kiyoomi goes pliant under his touch, melting in Atsumu’s arms as if he wasn’t a mass of pure muscles. He finds Atsumu’s lips once again, mouth open as they kiss, hot air mixing as their tongues curl around one another.

The shower goes by in a blur, not perfunctory but not as thorough as it would have been if they really needed it or weren’t as desperate for each other. Atsumu barely remembers how they step out of it but he has a moment of clarity when they stumble back in the tiny corridor, a giant cloud of steam following them.

They step over the grocery bag once more and he remembers what’s inside, apart from the food supplies he got at the konbini. 

“Omi wait,” he calls, bending a second to retrieve it and fetch the box of condoms that hasn’t been trampled on.

Kiyoomi stares at the box and his mind seems to clear just as much because suddenly he’s shaking his head and stepping back in the bathroom. Atsumu’s eyebrows raise for a second, his head tilting to the side.

He wants his partner back already. Grinding in the shower covered in slippery soap might have been one of the hottest things he’s ever done with someone before and he wants more. And maybe Atsumu is biased, still, no one’s going to sue him for it. 

Certainly not Kiyoomi, because he’s turning around already, hand clenched around a black plastic bottle Atsumu is familiar with. He’s bought similar items in the past, same brand. High quality.

Trust Kiyoomi to buy expensive lube clad in posh bottles smooth to the touch. 

He’s showing it off with a sideway grin, reclining against the sink lazily. 

Atsumu’s face grows hot instantly, nevermind the steam or the scalding shower they just took. 

They’re facing each other, each with a useful item in hand, not bothered in the least they’re both sporting boners while having a little stare-down. 

Atsumu realizes he has no idea how he wants things to go. Everything he wants is standing right in front of him, grinning like the Cheshire cat despite the obvious blush on his cheeks and chest.

Turns out the blush is spreading to Kiyoomi’s shoulder blades when he turns around, holding the bottle of lube next to his face.

The muscles in Kiyoomi’s back flex, Atsumu’s throat dries.

He doesn’t move immediately, stunned. But then Kiyoomi looks over his shoulder, although he doesn’t stare directly at Atsumu, and he asks: “Do you mind?”

Atsumu doesn’t even find it in him to be a smart-ass.

He presses a kiss between Kiyoomi’s shoulder blades instead, next to one of the moles adorning his pale back, hands sneaking around to rest on the sink in front of them. Maybe he has it in him to be a smart-ass just a little though, Atsumu thinks as he mimics words he heard today:

“Is that what you want?”

“That’s what I had in mind,” Kiyoomi answers without looking back.

Atsumu can’t see his reflection in the mirror because of the steam covering it, but he can hear the teasing tone well enough.

He’s grateful for the light banter, though, because Atsumu is a little shocked that Kiyoomi is offering himself like that. His hand moves on the edge of the sink, closing on his teammate’s and the bottle he’s holding. 

They don’t exchange words while Atsumu takes a little step back and breaks the lid — seeing the tension settling in Kiyoomi’s shoulders and feeling on edge himself, it’s easy to deduce they’re both nervous.

Maybe that’s the reason he delays a little when Atsumu pours lube on his right hand and warms it for longer than necessary, maybe it’s to avoid focusing on the way his stomach churns and his heart flutters. Atsumu would never have thought Sakusa Kiyoomi would allow anyone to touch him like this, yet here he is, trailing his clean fingers down his spine slowly until they stop, fingertips barely pressing between back dimples he never had the occasion to notice before.

Kiyoomi is absolutely beautiful.

“You don’t wanna take it to the bed?” he hears himself ask, eyes fixated on the indentations above the insane curve of Kiyoomi’s ass.

“Here is fine,” Kiyoomi answers, shoulders flexing even more as he tenses over.

Atsumu notices but he has a sense that if he presses on, it will do anything but help Kiyoomi relax so instead of pressing into his back, Atsumu moves his clean hand in front of his partner, splaying his fingers over Kiyoomi’s tensed abs gently.

Kiyoomi releases a long shaky exhale, Atsumu’s thumb digs in the flesh, rubbing soothing circles into his skin and he brings his lubed up hand between his thighs.

“Wait!” Kiyoomi snaps abruptly.

Atsumu takes his hand back at the speed of light.

“Wait… um, sorry, it’s just—you’re not going to use a condom?”

Atsumu blinks slowly, then frowns in confusion, glad Kiyoomi can’t see him. 

“I was just about to—you want me to use one to prep ya?”

“I don’t know… I would, I think I—” Kiyoomi sounds hesitant, his muscles hard as _steel_ under Atsumu’s clean hand.

Talk about relaxing...

“Fine! No, of course if ya want to, I will! Less messier, right?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi clicks his tongue.

Atsumu leans into him, resting his forehead against his back, speaking directly against his skin.

“I can. It’s just that we had two showers in a row, and I don’t mind. I—I don’t mind touchin’ you, Kiyoomi. I want to touch you, in fact,” he tells him with the most soothing voice he’s capable of. “ _But_ I will use one. I don’t mind usin’ one.”

He circles Kiyoomi’s body again to open the tap and wash his hand clean from the lube. No one stops him but he stays frozen for a few seconds before grabbing the pack of condoms abandoned by Atsumu a little forcefully. He tears the plastic film and gnaws on the foil wrapper of a condom to tear that too.

“Omi-kun, are you okay? We don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna—”

“Are we together, now?”

Atsumu does a double take while Kiyoomi turns _rigid_ in his arms. His jaw drops a little, and again Atsumu is glad his partner can’t see but that’s… that took him aback. He’s always known Kiyoomi is the over-thinking type, but that’s—

“Like together… going out together? Are you asking _right now_ if we’re together?” he can’t help but stammer.

“I am!” 

Kiyoomi turns on his heel, managing to do so despite the little space between Atsumu and the sink left. He’s towering over him by only a little, staring Atsumu down while he holds a stupid condom and it makes Atsumu grin despite himself.

“Thank god, I was afraid we were done makin’ it awkward as fuck.”

“Fuck you Miya!”

“No! I think you’re sorely mistaken considerin’ what I’m about to—Okay, alright! Damn Omi, you can’t glare at me like that when I’m hard. It’s a little weird to explain after.”

Kiyoomi still glares but as the exchange goes on, Atsumu notices the drop in his shoulders.

“Serves you right, weirdo.”

“Ya said you were fine datin’ a weirdo, though,” Atsumu jumps the occasion, catching the hand that’s holding the condom. “So… yeah. I think that means we’re together. As far as I’m concerned, we are.”

He takes it off Kiyoomi’s pinched fingers and brings his hand to his face instead, his lips brushing over his knuckles. 

“I apologize if that wasn’t clear,” he adds seriously, but he’s still grinning.

How could he help it anyway, when Kiyoomi is about to throw a fit to make sure they’re dating in the middle of them trying to have sex.

It’s so endearing it drills a hole in Atsumu’s chest. He needs to fill it, so he right out cuts Kiyoomi’s “No need to apologize, moron” with a kiss, and rolls the condom over his finger, grabbing the bottle of lube to press it in Kiyoomi’s hand.

He’s glad to feel him nod against him, and even relieved when Kiyoomi pours some over his hand before turning again, parting his legs slightly.

Atsumu holds his breath by reflex but whispers for Kiyoomi to “breathe” when his hand returns between his partner’s thighs.

His hand comes up slowly, teasing the sensible skin under his balls, and Atsumu feels his stomach drop the same way it would if they were in the reverse position. He doesn’t stop until his finger reaches Kiyoomi’s entrance. Then his clean hand settles back on Kiyoomi’s abs and he presses in slowly.

Kiyoomi jolts, dropping the bottle of lube in the sink loudly. Atsumu stops right there, listening. His whole body is on fire, straining. He expects Kiyoomi to tell him to go on or stop but instead, he reaches behind him, _between them,_ and his hand curls around Atsumu’s wrist. He doesn’t hold him there, though. Instead he pulls on it until Atsumu — following the motion — ends up with the heel of his palm digging in the small of Kiyoomi’s back, his finger entirely pressed inside him.

Atsumu stares down, eyes wide, slowly exhaling the breath he’s been holding, suffering a terrible case of brain freeze, when Kiyoomi bends his wrist the other way, leaving Atsumu’s wrist to sink down instead and grab his dick. 

_“God,” Atsumu_ lets out in a strangled gasp.

“I hope that’s not another stupid nickname,” Kiyoomi warns, hand twisting around Atsumu’s cock before giving him a shallow stroke.

“Shut up!” he snaps at the same time that his brain completes its reboot.

Kiyoomi does _not_ shut up. At least he doesn’t say anything insufferable after, but he’s not _coherent_ either. 

Atsumu is three fingers up his ass when Kiyoomi lets out a sharp little cry, doubling over, a hand sliding over the steamy surface of the mirror. He’s stopped touching Atsumu after he crooked two fingers just right and found his prostate. Atsumu isn’t mad, he’s still painfully hard, more than ever even, but he can’t stop.

He doesn’t want to stop. Kiyoomi is falling apart under his touch, his back flexing under Atsumu’s mesmerized gaze each time he stops scissoring his fingers to prepare him and abuses his prostate instead.

“Enough,” Kiyoomi pants, trying to escape Atsumu’s touch but by now, he’s pressed against the sink entirely.

Atsumu begs to differ. He’s not sure he can get enough of this.

But Kiyoomi can’t stand it any longer.

He’s so worked up that if Atsumu keeps edging him, either he dies or will kill someone for their trouble. 

He thrusts his hips back one last time, after trying to get away for two whole minutes, letting Atsumu’s fingers sink deep inside just once more before he grabs his wrist again, this time to pull him out.

Atsumu stumbles a little, but he looks more like someone just snatched his favorite toy from him than he’s surprised so Kiyoomi doesn’t waste a second. He rips the condom off Atsumu’s fingers, letting it flop unceremoniously in the sink behind them, before he grabs his teammate by the dick, literally.

Atsumu chokes on his spit, falling into Kiyoomi’s chest, an angry red coloring his nose. 

“Remember what I did to that lollipop when you want to try and make me lose patience,” Kiyoomi snarls against his temple.

Atsumu’s dick twitches in his grip and Kiyoomi can’t hold back a smug smirk.

The curse never comes, though, instead his partner fumbles for something behind his back and Atsumu’s hands are back in Kiyoomi’s field of vision with a condom he has a hard time opening with his slippery hand.

He finally lets go of him, more eager to finally get it than he is merciful but as soon as Kiyoomi frees the condom, his hand curls around Atsumu’s cock again, feeling him.

It’s more than three fingers, definitely more. Kiyoomi’s heartbeat picks up. 

He rolls the condom down Atsumu’s cock to try and busy his mind but it doesn’t help to feel just how thick he is under his fingers. Atsumu distracts him with cool, slippery fingers replacing his own around his length to coat himself with some more lube. Kiyoomi might feel a little weak in the knees from the sight of Atsumu stroking himself.

He lets out a tiny moan through bitten lips, sucks in a breath and looks back up. 

Atsumu’s gaze is feverish. 

The next second, he is kissing the life out of him and Kiyoomi drives them both out of the bathroom without remorse. They don’t make it far, certainly not to the bed.

Atsumu’s hands grip his ass and sweep him off the floor to pin him to the corridor's wall. Kiyoomi’s legs wrap around his waist immediately, thighs clenching above his hips so he can brace himself through the kiss. But when he expects Atsumu to walk them to the bed, he breaks the kiss and one of his hands disappears from under Kiyoomi — forcing him to hold on even more — and a few seconds later, Atsumu is guiding his cock until it's sliding against his rim.

Kiyoomi gasps, nails raking over his partner’s shoulders as he scrambles for leverage, every muscle in his body straining.

“Can I?” Atsumu asks in the crook of his neck, a plea more than anything.

“Yes, Atsumu, yes,” Kiyoomi grunts, a hand fisting in the blond hair at the back of his partner’s head to force him to look up.

Atsumu pushes him up the wall at the same time their lips are crushed together, then he readjusts himself and Kiyoomi moans through the kiss ; low and long. The tip of Atsumu’s cock barely fits inside him yet they both need a moment.

They’re trembling. Atsumu’s arms are trembling, Kiyoomi’s thighs, they’re shivering all over.

“D’you want to move to the bed?” he asks again, his hips moving minutely to slide an inch more inside.

He’s gentle, careful. Atsumu cares so much and it transpires in every of his moves and the way he touches him. It will be the end of Kiyoomi. He needs to ground himself. 

“No. Do you?” Kiyoomi hisses the words out, trying to meet the motion slowly, to connect.

At least, Atsumu unvolontarily helps when he gives him another cryptic answer, as infuriating as it is:

“I don’t want ya to strain—”

“Atsumu, you’re going to need to start answering my questions straightforwardly,” Kiyoomi tells him, pushing on his thighs.

And the moment he falls back, sinking down his cock, whatever Atsumu planned on saying is replaced by a high-pitched whine. His teeth sink in Kiyoomi’s collarbone and only that painful tinge redirects his attention from the overwhelming sudden stretch between his legs.

It’s a _lot_ more than three fingers. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

The words are barely out that Atsumu starts pumping his hips lightly, pushing against Kiyoomi’s walls, taking him apart and Kiyoomi has nowhere to hold onto but his partner.

He wraps his legs higher, around Atsumu’s back, hand threading in his hair, his other arm clamped around his shoulders. Kiyoomi’s head bumps against the wall when he throws his head back, the hit forgotten the next second. Atsumu’s tongue is running up his neck, twisting over his Adam’s apple, teasing the underside of his jaw…

Kiyoomi loves his tongue, the way it moves against his skin and tastes him. Atsumu is thorough, just like he was in the storage room — paying attention to every bit of exposed skin Kiyoomi can give him. Now Kiyoomi just wants to give him more, something he’s never really experienced with the few people he had sex before.

He’s so focused on the relentless ministrations that by the time Atsumu is entirely sheathed inside him, Kiyoomi has entirely relaxed, the preliminary burn coming with the stretch a fading memory. It’s still there, but not unpleasant.

It’s just the proof Atsumu owns him entirely and that drives him a little crazy. He’s losing it progressively, there’s nothing else, just—

“I need a moment,” Atsumu suddenly croaks against his collarbones, face hidden down there.

Kiyoomi cracks an eye open, looking down as he tries to grind his hips into Atsumu’s. He must look confused, because Atsumu pulls back to stare at him. He looks ravished. His lips are glistening, just like Kiyoomi’s throat must be, his hair a total mess. 

A surge of hunger sparks deep inside Kiyoomi. He wants to possess that man too.

“I’m not going to last if you keep making these noises,” Atsumu explains, breathless.

Kiyoomi’s jaw drops.

“The hell are you on about?” he asks, brain too fogged with desire. “I don’t give a damn if you don’t last, I just want you to fuck me!”

“And I’m telling you I won’t be fucking you another fuckin’ minute if you moan my name like that again,” Atsumu snaps, biting his bottom lip when Kiyoomi finally succeeds in changing the angle of his hips enough to sink further down his cock.

“I’m not—I’m… Am I?”

This time it’s Atsumu’s jaw that drops. His eyes are veiled with something dark, something animalistic, something that makes Kiyoomi’s cock throb.

There’s a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, the frown on Kiyoomi’s face disappears ; his throat clicks.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Atsumu grunts.

Next thing Kiyoomi knows, his back is hitting the mattress of his bed and Atsumu is all over him. 

His tongue invades his mouth, his hands are parting his legs, his arms hooked under his knees as he folds Kiyoomi in half effortlessly, then—

“Ah! Fuck! There, _yes,”_ Kiyoomi almost screams, voice breaking when Atsumu thrusts deep inside him.

At least, this time, he’s aware of the noises he's making, and it might be best because Atsumu is fucking him hard and fast and Kiyoomi is being way too loud for their stupid dorms. And he just can’t help it.

It’s so much, so good, just rough enough to keep him off the edge but insanely _good._

“Keep it down, Omi, I swear…”

“Make me,” Kiyoomi asks, not even to provoke him ; just because there’s no way he can keep quiet under the onslaught.

It still makes Atsumu snap.

His thrusts get more shallow, erratic, and now that he’s not hitting so deep, he’s relentlessly driving into Kiyoomi’s prostate. That should have been enough to make Kiyoomi lose it, but the hand that settles over his jaw, gripping him tightly… the thumb that pries his lips apart and finally Atsumu sucking on his tongue and biting into his lips…

That entire loss of control is what pushes Kiyoomi over the edge, the way he submits to him and lets Atsumu own him.

He doesn’t warn his partner and barely registers that Atsumu’s hips stutter but he does feel him when he buries himself to the hilt, filling him up entirely.

Kiyoomi moans his name against his mouth, fingers digging in Atsumu’s nape to hold him close while he rides his orgasm.

Whatever Atsumu tries to say gets swallowed by his Kiyoomi, but it’s probably not that coherent anyway judging from how his body twitches above Kiyoomi and his eyes roll back before he closes them.

The room quiets down, the only sound ringing in Kiyoomi’s ears for a moment being the pleasant buzz of a blissful white noise.

It’s not _so_ quiet, he realizes soon, as he comes down and gets assaulted by his own heartbeat, throbbing directly into his eardrums. Atsumu’s heart is pounding too, but Kiyoomi is only aware of it because his chest is flat against him, Atsumu completely slumped over him. He’s panting, and that isn’t so quiet either.

Kiyoomi is breathing hard too, just not that easily because — and he only realizes now — his legs are still bent, he’s still folded in half and the position isn’t so comfortable anymore.

“Atsu—”

The name dies on his lips. Atsumu’s eyes snap open and he suddenly pushes himself up, propping himself on shaking arms, and it’s a little abrupt but at least Atsumu gives room for Kiyoomi to unfold his legs this way.

It’s excruciating. No matter how flexible, when you’ve been fucked silly into your own mattress by 80kg of muscle, Kiyoomi guesses you can’t just walk out without feeling a little sore. You just don’t think about that kind of logistics, in the heat of the moment.

He’ll try to keep it in mind, for next time.

Atsumu rolls next to him, exhaling hard and long, while Kiyoomi stares at the ceiling, still feeling dizzy. He blinks a couple of times when Atsumu fumbles between them to grasp his hand and bring it to his lips. 

He threads their fingers, the yearning feeling in Kiyoomi’s chest immediately reignited.

“Are you okay?” Atsumu asks against his knuckles, his breath short.

Kiyoomi’s throat closes up, he rolls on his side, feeling the gross mess coating his abs. Atsumu is beautiful, laying there, completely disheveled, looking up at him through half-lidded shiny eyes.

This time, it’s Kiyoomi’s turn to evade the question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, the hole in his chest more and more gaping.

It’s devouring him, and the more he looks at Atsumu, the more it engulfs him.

Kiyoomi is a little scared suddenly… He’s not sure he’s supposed to feel this way when he should only feel satiated, but the more he stares at Atsumu and the more his partner stares back… The more Kiyoomi feels like he can’t breathe.

Atsumu seems confused though, and in his desperate need for him, obsessed with his own _craving,_ Kiyoomi might have missed how that question could sound undelicate.

Rude, even. His eyes widen, just like the void inside him.

Kiyoomi reaches out, fingers cupping the side of Atsumu’s face. His respiration quickens.

“Because I’m not! Atsumu… I don't think I can get enough of you.”

Atsumu’s heartbeat was still fast, but steady. Kiyoomi’s words trigger a violent jump.

It’s cheesy words, it’s the kind of heartfelt confession someone like _him_ could blurt out. In Kiyoomi’s mouth, they weigh so heavy. So intense.

It’s stupid but Atsumu’s throat closes up, it’s dumb but he might get used to hearing them.

It’s silly but Atsumu might catch bigger feelings than what he braced himself for.

He tries to ask twice if Kiyoomi wants to clean up in the shower and is only answered the third time when Kiyoomi — who’s been straddling his hips to make out with him as if they haven’t just had the orgasm of the decade — finally gets up to rush to the bathroom.

When he comes back, he’s holding the bottle of lube they left there, the box of condoms and a towel.

He’s somehow wiped his stomach clean in the process and throws the towel at Atsumu while he stops by the mini fridge slotted under his cooking hob to grab two bottles of water.

Kiyoomi makes his way back to the bed with his arms full, dropping the various items on the mattress.

“Again,” he commands for the second time as he settles next to Atsumu gingerly, folding his legs under him.

Atsumu has no idea what he did to earn that. He’s in heaven. Although, for the second time, he tries to elude a little. But Kiyoomi isn’t having it and Atsumu can feel his eyes drill holes in his skull while he tries to chug down the bottle of water.

“Thanks for that,” he tells him with a sheepish grin.

“Atsumu, I asked—”

“I know!”

“You don’t want to?” Kiyoomi asks, taking his hand back from where it was resting on Atsumu’s bent knee.

He looks down at the hand Kiyoomi folds back in his lap then scans his body.

Kiyoomi might have wiped the cum from his abs, but he’s…

Oh... Atsumu is the one who ruined him. Marks are blooming along his collarbones, at the base of his neck, on his biceps. He’s always been kind of a biter, but Kiyoomi is worse than him and it just spurred him on…

And when he thinks about the way he lost control and wrecked him… Well, again, he _knows_ he didn’t _break_ him, that Kiyoomi isn’t a fragile little thing. It’s clear as day, but still.

“I do want to! For real, how are ya even askin’! Just… Are you sure you should—”

“You’re not going to ask if I’m sure I want you to fuck me,” Kiyoomi deadpans, his tone threatening enough for Atsumu to know he’s right.

Okay, then, there’s another thing that’s bugging him about going for a second round. This one, though, is a little more difficult to blurt out.

It’s silly, really, because Atsumu isn’t sure there was anything better than finally getting to have sex with Sakusa Kiyoomi. Everyone pack their shit and go home, Atsumu is never going to want to have sex with another man again, even after a not-so-long and way too messy fuck they barely had planned this morning.

No, he should be perfectly happy this way, but something has been poking at the back of his mind since Kiyoomi looked down on him and fucked himself on his cock while Atsumu was trying to hold him against that wall.

He’s the luckiest bastard in the world, he’s willing to repeat that a thousand times, that he had the chance to possess Sakusa Kiyoomi. _But_ …

_I want him to own me._

No, he definitely can’t say that, can he?

“We’ve already destroyed the bed sheets. I don’t care. You said food could wait, I don’t get it,” Kiyoomi eventually mumbles, worrying at his lips.

He’s been gnawing at the rim of his bottle for a solid minute too now. Atsumu knows Kiyoomi enough to know it’s a sign he’s frying his brain.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, we don’t have practice. And if Hinata had to hear anything, I think the damage is done already. It’s fine, just tell me—”

“I want you to fuck me.”

There. He _can_ vomit the words, whether Atsumu wants it or not.

Nice. At least, the way Kiyoomi’s eyes go wide as saucers is funny enough to comfort Atsumu. It makes him shut up faster than when they have sex too. The element of surprise, right? It doesn’t work too long though, because Atsumu can’t be too lucky.

“Is that it? Is that why you fussed like an idiot?”

Atsumu laughs, half nervously, half genuinely.

“Can’t help bein’ a fucking asshole, uh? Love that for ya. Love to know that nothing’s gonna change, Omi-kun.”

“I think it’s important,” Kiyoomi fires back, but he’s on all four suddenly, crawling toward Atsumu.

A hand presses in his sternum, merciless. Atsumu gulps down and lies back.

“What is?”

“Keeping things the way they are?” Kiyoomi goes on, parting Atsumu’s legs open surgically.

“Are we figurin’ shit out now?” he asks a little too fast, feeling suddenly terribly exposed despite the delightful tinge of excitation that stirs in his belly.

His cock isn’t so soft anymore either. Kiyoomi can see that.

“Is there a problem, Miya? Want me to get an appointment instead? Or would you rather keep it cool and _figure shit out_ as we go?” 

It’s a little upsetting getting even more aroused when Kiyoomi talks him down like that, especially when he grabs his dick and gives him a long, painfully long, stroke and Atsumu can do nothing but suppress an obvious shudder. 

"If we're keepin' it cool, maybe stop lookin' at me like you're about to break me in half."

"You asked, though."

Atsumu closes his eyes, Kiyoomi's wrist twists, his fingers gripping the base of his cock. Atsumu squirms and cracks an eye open to see his partner quirk an eyebrow at him. 

"I asked you to fuck me. Clear enough?“ he drops, a lot more confidently. 

Kiyoomi's derogatory attitude turns down right smug. 

"There. Wasn’t so difficult to ask.”

Atsumu scoffs, face-palming. He can’t win with that man, can he?

“You’re a cocky bastard.”

“You started it, saying I wanted to break you in half,” Kiyoomi counters, going completely still over him. “Is this how they call it these days?”

His voice sounds closer, so Atsumu peeks at him through his fingers. He’s so close, leaning over him. 

“And what if it is?” Atsumu asks, blood pumping faster in his veins.

“Well, if that’s a metaphor, I’m sorry to disappoint but _you_ didn’t break me in half earlier.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

Atsumu takes his hand off, ready to prop himself up and tame that bastard down. Kiyoomi’s hand is back on his chest, forcefully pinning him back into the bed sheets.

“Stay down, it's my turn.”

Atsumu resists the urge to curse, as if Kiyoomi couldn’t see how affected he is. He raises both arms over his head, letting them rest on the mattress palms open and pretends to feign indifference. Not his best performance considering he’s stabbing Kiyoomi in the thigh right now, but he still sighs dramatically.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings, Omi.”

Kiyoomi scoffs at that, but the words he whispers next are what really end Atsumu right there because they sound so _fond_. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Mmh,” Atsumu melts right here and there.

He’s really a simpleton. Or he really likes Kiyoomi. Whatever it is, Atsumu is fine with it.

They move a little less eagerly this time, taking their time to touch each other just like Atsumu did in the bathroom, except Kiyoomi is more guiding him into doing what he wants Atsumu to do than getting to it himself.

Atsumu doesn’t mind and that’s how he finds himself three fingers deep again, this time inside himself. Kiyoomi is riling him up dangerously, having moved behind his back after a slow but passionate make-out interlude.

He’s tugging on Atsumu’s hair, kissing his nape, teasing the shell of his ear and Atsumu can’t help but grind against him as much as possible with his wrist completely twisted at the worst angle to reach deep enough to open himself up properly.

He’s not even pretending to do anything else than what’s strictly necessary to get accustomed to the stretch, not trying to get off in the least with his own fingers. Atsumu is thorough and fast, relaxing without a problem under Kiyoomi’s ministrations.

He's surprised they indulge in that moment that long, but Atsumu isn’t less eager when Kiyoomi’s hand wraps around his straining forearm. He takes the hint, draws his fingers back, shivering from the sensation.

He feels oddly empty but when Kiyoomi has the nerve to roll a condom down his cock while sitting _behind_ Atsumu still, letting him feel every of his moves but not allowing Atsumu to _see,_ it clicks.

“Be gentle,” he tells him, restless.

Kiyoomi moves from behind him to guide him down on his back and Atsumu’s stomach drops. He nods before leaning over his Atsumu to kiss him but suddenly Atsumu can’t stop running his mouth some more.

“Remember when I told ya I didn’t remember when was the last time I got tested? It’s because I honest to god barely remember when is the last time I had sex like that. So, just… don’t be… don’t—”

It’s not as embarrassing as he’d have thought it would be, but Atsumu doesn’t know how to finish this sentence. What he knows, though, is that Kiyoomi wasn’t going to be rough anyway. Not with the mood, not with the way he’s been moving with him for the last minutes.

He just needs to share, _overshare,_ with him and it’s a little terrifying. There are little chances Kiyoomi is going to back down on him now, not after every moment Atsumu clowned himself or Kiyoomi did something stupid but it’s still nerve-wracking.

Kiyoomi’s fingertips press inside Atsumu’s left knee, pushing his leg aside slowly, teasing him as they brush the skin along his thigh, toward his crotch. His bangs fall over his eyes, dark hungry eyes that won’t leave Atsumu.

“I will. I’ll be careful. It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me this, I’m not going to judge or anything. You do you—”

“Well, no one _did me_ in ages,” Atsumu interrupts him when he fears the too serious conversion might kill the mood.

Kiyoomi’s eyes snap up to his face, his lips curling in a soft smile. He’s too beautiful. So beautiful, Atsumu can’t even look at him. It’s so much in one day...

He rolls on his stomach, careful to stay between Kiyoomi’s legs where he’s braced over him but Atsumu strains to look over his shoulders anyway. He’s careful to weigh the words, to make them matter no matter how innocent they are. Simple.

“But it’s fine, Omi. I trust you.”

Ever so vocal Atsumu doesn’t make a sound, can’t even say a word as Kiyoomi sinks in slowly, carefully. He’s holding his breath, holding Kiyoomi’s hand next to his face tightly, so Kiyoomi tries not to drown in the impossibly hot and tight feeling around his cock to focus on his partner’s reactions instead.

_I trust you._

To think he was wondering if there could ever be anything else than casual sex between them just this morning.

The hole in his chest is long forgotten, his heart is swelling, ready to explode, about to burst when Atsumu exhales finally and lets go of a broken “ _Kiyoomi_.”

It’s followed by a curse but Kiyoomi doesn’t hear it. His name rings in his head.

Their legs are completely entangled, one of his arms hooked under Atsumu’s chest to keep him pressed into him. He thinks he’d love to stay right here and never move again.

Atsumu seems to agree for a fleeting moment — a moment where they stay like that, breathing a little hard, but reveling in the feeling that comes when they stop aching. 

It’s short-lived, Atsumu starts grinding tentatively under Kiyoomi, rutting against him.

Kiyoomi is already hilt deep and the extra friction makes his eyes roll back. 

_Gentle,_ Atsumu asked so there’s something almost reverent in the way Kiyoomi starts rolling his hips, peppering Atsumu’s shoulder blades with nips and kisses. 

He doesn’t mind going slow anyway. After the first and intense round, and the messy quickies they got before, Kiyoomi doesn’t actually mind if they take their time.

Somehow, it doesn’t dull the feeling of longing that makes his body burn, his mind blur. The more he takes, the more they move together in the sheets, the more Kiyoomi wants to give and receive. He’s not going to ask again if they’re together, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find out what that means in every possible way.

“Omi… Kiyoomi,” Atsumu starts moaning, half muffled by the blanket under his face. 

He’s pushing his hips back up more insistently. His body undulates under Kiyoomi, his back flexing under his chest, strong hands fisting the bed sheets to find some leverage.

Kiyoomi moves his arm from under Atsumu’s torso to his hips, hoisting his ass up suddenly. Atsumu claws at the fabric. 

_Gentle,_ he said, _gen_ —

“Harder, Kiyoomi. I wanna feel you.”

There’s no restraint when Kiyoomi pumps his hips faster, driving inside his partner deeper, but it’s not rough. He wants to feel him just as much.

His hand moves from Atsumu’s hip to curl around him instead, jerking him off in tandem with his thrusts in the narrow space between his body and the mattress. Atsumu’s right hand finds its way there, joining the motion and Kiyoomi moans against Atsumu’s ear.

Instead of falling back against the bed, Atsumu keeps chasing after him, bending his legs progressively until Kiyoomi has to get on his knees to keep fucking into him properly. He keeps his other hand on Atsumu’s nape, for a moment, nails scraping the base of his skull.

Atsumu, held down, lets out a wanton moan, Kiyoomi’s mind breaks.

His fingers slide along his shoulder and pull Atsumu back so he has to get on his knees too. He’s immediately trapped against Kiyoomi's chest.

Kiyoomi pounds him, hand relentless on his cock. Kiyoomi knows the height difference plays in his favor judging from the throaty little groans he punches out of Atsumu with every thrust.

“I’m gonna come again,” Atsumu breathes out, turning his head as if to try and reach back.

He sounds a little desperate, Kiyoomi feels the same.

Their eyes lock. Atsumu is wrecked. 

Two of Kiyoomi’s fingers dig into his jaw to help him crane his neck so he can seal their mouths together. 

Atsumu clings back onto him, reaching for Kiyoomi’s hips, his arms, his neck.

“Comin’.”

Kiyoomi pumps his cock a little faster, fingers deftly clenching around the head, the motion of his wrist going from steady to clumsy after Atsumu begins to clench around him, clamping down his cock with each jolt of his hips.

Their lips part, a string of spit connecting them until Kiyoomi bites down at the base of Atsumu’s neck to muffle his groan. They fall forward on all four, hips jerking endlessly.

Kiyoomi’s orgasm is drawn out, making his head spin, as long as Atsumu tries to ride his own, riding his cock and _milking_ him in the process.

They collapse on the bed, crumbling like two heavy weights, which they are, without even thinking.

The bed creaks heavily, the sounds as deafening as a thunderclap in the aftermath. Both athletes tense up, momentarily ruining the pleasant and soothing calm they were finally supposed to enjoy after that total bliss.

“There’s no way that didn’t cross the entire building,” Atsumu thinks useful to point out.

“I’ll say we fought and that I killed you,” Kiyoomi threatens but it’s half-hearted, exhaustion already seeping through his voice.

“Yeah? Well good luck explaining to Hinata we were fighting while screamin’ my name like _that,_ ” Atsumu mocks, squirming under Kiyoomi’s form.

“Come again? You’re not just being dramatic, you’re being delusional, Miya.”

“Wasn’t _Miya_ when ya—aw, aaaaw, _aaaw_ stop, ya freak!” Atsumu tries to wriggle away to escape Kiyoomi pinching his flank but it’s hopeless.

Kiyoomi feels like he weighs a ton, slumping voluntarily over Atsumu's body, and Atsumu must be as sore and tired as he is. Not counting weak…

Kiyoomi stops pinching his partner when the room’s relative quietness is destroyed again, this time by his stomach rumbling. 

Atsumu starts giggling under him, borderline hysterical from the nerves probably. It’s contagious, though, and Kiyoomi — who was outraged by the treachery committed by his own body — eventually joins.

“Shit, the dumbasses got it right, we really went all backward,” Atsumu drops after they start to calm down.

Kiyoomi rolls off him, fumbling for the bottle of water that hopefully stayed somewhere around.

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Atsumu sits back in the middle of the bed, pulling the bed sheets around his waist. Damn, Kiyoomi needs to burn these. When Atsumu stops looking like a greek god wrapped in them. But just after, he will.

“I mean,” he goes again, interrupting both Kiyoomi’s train of thought and motion as his hand settles on Kiyoomi’s. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, will you let me take you on a cute little date?”

Kiyoomi can’t help but raise a critical eyebrow at his partner. His _lover_ , actually. 

“You bought instant noodles to make up for the already messed-up breakfast attempt.”

“Just let me pretend I’m taking ya out for dinner, for fuck’s sake!”

Kiyoomi’s mouth twitches awkwardly. He wants to smirk but his heart is clenching in his chest. He can’t be so soft for such an idiot, can he?

“For argument’s sake, let’s pretend that I’m inclined to it but I swear I’m not stepping outside that flat for the next twenty-four hours and you better deal with it, Miya.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes dramatically but crawls toward him, tongue stuck between his teeth to hold back a familiar grin.

“That’s the way it was supposed to go! That’s what’s supposed to be left for posterity, y’know? I asked you out, ya said _yeeees Atsumu, I really wanna go on a date with you,_ we confessed and _then_ you gave me a—”

“But we didn’t,” Kiyoomi suddenly interjects, throat drying. 

“Uh?”

“It doesn't matter if we got it backward, right or whatever you want to call it. I didn’t hear you _confess_.”

Atsumu blushes violently at Kiyoomi’s words, probably matching him when his face grows unbearably hot. None of them look flustered or ashamed, though. Atsumu’s golden eyes gleam with determination. Kiyoomi sucks in a breath as Atsumu leans into him until they’re close enough for their mouths to brush when he speaks.

“We said we’d get the steps in the wrong order, not that we’d _burn_ them, Omi.”

The ghost of his touch vanishes as suddenly as it appeared as he rushes out of the bed to head toward the little corridor and kitchen area.

Kiyoomi stays in the middle of the bed, dumbstruck.

“First, let me cook you dinner. I think we can sort the next step a little later.”

Kiyoomi isn’t sure what he got himself into, nor how they’re supposed to sort it out. But Atsumu makes it sound easy. 

As easy as stealing a kid’s candy… or a sexy setter’s lollipop.

Kiyoomi bites down his bottom lip, looking at the man busying himself in the tiny kitchen of the room he’s been dreaming of leaving and can’t think about a better idea than staying hidden in that lair with Atsumu for the rest of the week-end. 

Maybe Kiyoomi wants to keep him to himself for a little longer. A lot longer than that. He might say it, at some point. Maybe after dinner, maybe in a week or a month or even later. He'll say the right words when they feel like it. 

And if he can’t get Atsumu to confess, he’ll just steal the words right out of the tip of his tongue, like Kiyoomi has always done.

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea I'd end up with such a monster in the end but I feel so happy I could go through with the series. It started with a silly thread about oral fixation around the time I really got in SakuAtsu and this story allowed me to get a grasp of the characterisation I want for them which fills me with a lot of joy and love! ♥
> 
> I'm grateful for any feedback! ♥ Thank you for tagging along this journey and see you around for the cinema AU or my next canon-verse series with college student!Omi x MSBY!Atsumu
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Deaddrabble)  
> Find me on [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/DeaddrabbleRobin)


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